Siren's Song
by hetaliacomplex
Summary: A Havsrå, "sea wife," is said to be a very generous and helpful creature when its favor is won, however, when angered they have been known to cause great amounts of damage. Seven years ago, Tino's son was taken from him by a group of fishermen, resulting in his contempt for any ship that sails his waters, however, a chance encounter with a viking named Berwald changes his life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Prologue

Deep beneath the ocean's surface, miles and miles below, a young man grieved. This man was not an ordinary man, but a mystical Scandinavian being. He was a havsrå or in his case, more specifically, a havsmän.

He and his family grieved for his lost young, for you see, the recently born havsbarn had been stolen from him, with no trace left behind by the cruel net of a fisherman. Their wails and moans stirred the ocean, causing a great turmoil on the surface; one that would damn any sailor, any fishermen, any man who dared sail a similar treacherous vessel as the one who had taken his young away from him.

It is said that that day many ships were sunk by the havsrå's devestated, devestating cry.

Years and years crept by, each day the man and his family searched for his young, each day any ship who dared sail through their waters suffered great losses, seldom were any men spared. Those who were spared spoke of beautiful beings who would lure men towards the edge of the ship and would drag them under; Of beautiful songs so full of sorrow and anger that the ocean itself would become enraged and destroy anything in its path, turning ships to ruin and causing anything caught in this phenomenon to be lost forever.

Meanwhile, the young havsbarn lived with the fisherman who had discovered him and his lover. He was given the name of Peter Kirkland and denied knowledge of his origin and even true identity. Four years passed living with this family before his village was attacked and they were separated. Young Peter was lost in the panic as villagers rushed out of the burning remains of the village, taking only what they could carry. His guardians searched high and low as long as they could, but it became increasingly hard to maintain hope that he wasn't one of the many lives lost. Eventually, they fled the charred remains of the village in tears, presuming him to be dead. Little did they know that the young boy had hidden under the port, the waves' gentle rhythm calling to him and soothing him, dissipating his fear, and drying his tears.

He remained there for hours, through the attack of the village, and even after the whole thing had ended, until he was discovered by a group of passing warriors who had seen the burnt down little village and decided to investigate. It was the leader of these warriors who took the boy in as his own and raised him, a large, intimidating viking by the name of Berwald. He taught the boy to fight and hunt and Peter went 3 more years unaware of who he was, unaware of the extent his family went through to find him, until a chance encounter the day he turned seven.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lukas and his brother, Emil, watched Tino as he stared vacantly into the ocean from the rock he was perched on, resting his head on his arms. He always seemed to do this when this day came around. He would travel, no matter how far, to the place his son was taken and wait, as if hoping the fisherman would return with his son and give him the chance to take him back. He'd held onto this hope for seven years and it was always on the day his son had been taken that he'd be there. It pained the two to see their previously joyful cousin hold near no expression but anger and sorrow.

The light in his eyes was gone, it had been gone for so long they could hardly remember how he looked truly happy. They knew there wasn't much of a chance he'd be found, it was a big world with many oceans and even more people, he'd just have to wait until his son was of age for him to be found.

They'd explained this to Tino, but he'd have none of it. He refused to miss so many years of his child's life and was determined to find him as soon as possible.

It angered Lukas deeply that his cousin should suffer so greatly because of man. They took what wasn't theirs to take and ruined such a kind person's life in the process. A person who would always offer help to those who needed him, be it havsrå or human. He would help them find a good spot to fish if they were down on their luck, warn them of incoming storms, and trade with them, offering more than their pathetic goods were worth, and this was how they repaid him.

He calmed himself, so as to not agitate Tino, and made his way over to him with his brother following closely behind.

He lay his hands on Tino's, offering the man a slight, sad smile. "Please do not fool yourself, cousin. It has been seven years and the fishermen have never come back to this place in all that time. I believe it is time for you to let go and move on.

Tino gripped the man's hands, lifting his gaze from the still waters and letting it fall on Lukas before looking back to the water beneath him.

"You can't expect it to be so easy, Lukas. Especially not today."

"Please listen to reason, Tino. Lukas is right. Not a single year has gone by that we have not searched and not a year has gone by where we have seen the ship. You are going to die of a broken heart, cousin."

"You don't understand!" Tino's eyes were suddenly full of life, full of fire, as he addressed his cousin. "Humans are violent and greedy creatures who are always at war! Always fighting to gain what they want and sacrificing lives in the process! How do I know he has not been killed already!? How do I know he has not been hurt for what he is? For what we are? You can't hope for me to move on when it is always a possibility that he could be suffering! Look there! Another warship!" The man turned, signalling at a large viking vessel in the distance, full of men prepared to kill. "How am I to know that they are not headed to attack the village he inhabits or have done so already?!"

He pushed himself off of the rock and into the now stirring water, making his way over to the steadily approaching ship with his two cousin's following.

* * *

"A-are you sure about this, sir? You know what they say about these waters. Not a ship has gone through in seven years. Maybe we should take another route." A young man stood before his leader, fidgeting noticeably and glancing into the water anxiously. He feared his chieftain, but he feared what he'd heard lurked in the waters even more. It was this fear that led him to approach the man with his concerns and subject himself to the full force of his intimidating gaze as the rest of the men watched.

"The man grunted, acknowledging his statement, and replying with, "Sh'rtest way," before another man entered the scene.

His boisterous laughter cut through the anxious silence.

"Don't tell me all your men are this cowardly, Berwald," he slapped the other man on the back, much to the quieter man's disdain and continued to laugh. "If so, it looks like it'll be up to me and my men to take down the Slavics and yours can prepare the food and wash the clothes!"

Berwald's men grumbled their discontent with the man and his statement. A hundred looks of hatred were directed a the rambunctious leader as he turned to address them.

"Now, men. Do not tell me you believe those old wives tales! If so, then by all means you may swim back to the wives and women and wait amongst them while the men go to war. Now which of you shall be the first to jump in?" The man's eyes shone with laughter and mischief as he stretched his arm towards the side of the ship, giving them freedom to pass through and dive in.

The men looked down towards their feet with shame, none wishing to be thought of as a coward, but none wishing to face these cursed waters. Slowly they grumbled an unintelligible response and returned to what they were doing, leaving the two leaders to talk amongst themselves.

"It seems our men will indeed fight together, then, eh Berwald?" The man said mockingly, shooting the Swede a large, cheerful grin. Berwald simply grunted in reply and directed his attention to the water, not wishing to converse with the loud man. He dreaded having to fight alongside him, but saw no way around it. With the Slavic army outnumbering his greatly, he needed all the help he could get.

They had been fighting for months back and forth, but, no matter the effort, both armies always returned to where they had started. Many lives had been lost, but nothing was ever gained but blood on their clothes and another weeping widow, another orphaned child, another body to weigh down on his conscience and to discourage his men.

Berwald clenched his fists at the thought. It was becoming more frequent for him to think this way, to wonder if this war had truly been worth the lives lost, but he knew he couldn't back down now. Not when so many lives had been wasted for this cause.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the pitter patter of small feet running across the deck accompanied by the voice of a child. He and the other man turned to see young Peter running towards him with a smile on his face. He jumped into his father's open arms, and wrapped his little hands around his father's neck as he carried him. The other man approached the two, ruffling the young boy's hair.

"Wh't 's it, Peter?" the young boy's eyes widened as he looked to the sky.

"There's a storm coming! " He shouted excitedly, throwing his arms in the air.

The other man turned his attention to the sky, noticing that not a single cloud was present, then looked back to the young boy with and incredulous look.

"Ya sure? There ain't a cloud in sight. It's a perfect day for sailing."

"I swear it, Uncle Mathias! " The boy said, leaning towards him.

Berwald made a noise of disapproval. "D'n't call th't idiot uncle."

Mathias gave him a bright grin and ruffled his hair once again. "Alright kid, I believe ya. Ya've never been wrong before." He then turned to the men onboard.

"Prepare the ship! A storm's coming! Tie down anything that could fall over!"

"Yer outta yer mind, Dane. There ain't a cloud in the sky, " one of the burlier men challenged. None of these men had ever had the privilege of travelling along with the boy, and therefore none knew of his gift. Only the seasoned soldiers, those who were fighting on land now, knew well to take the boy's warnings seriously. Even so, Matthias did his best to get the men to begin preparing.

"The young son of yer leader has said it to be so, now follow orders!"

"So we're to believe the words of a child and even worse! The words of a Dane! " The man and many others let out a roar of laughter.

Peter, feeling the sting of these words and the attention now focused on him looked down at his hands, ashamed, his ears burning and embarrassed tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

He hated when the adults did this. They never believed a word he said. He was honestly trying to help. The same as 3 years ago. He had told his parents that an attack was coming, but they had brushed it off as a figment of his imagination. Maybe if he had been older, maybe if he had been born to them they would have believed him and they would still all be together in his little home village. Now not only had they laughed at him and mocked him, but they were also insulting his uncle for believing him.

Berwald, noticing his happy son's sudden change in mood, set Peter down and made his way next to the Dane.

"Pr'pare for a st'rm!" He roared out, stunning every man and ceasing their laughter. Quickly they all went to work, hoping to avoid the lion's wrath.

Behind him, little Peter watched his father in awe. He was a silent man with an intimidating stature and aura, but with a kind heart. He had always admired him, ever since the day he had been found by him.

Upon being found, the young boy had burst into tears. He was dragged out of the water by large, bearded men dressed in armor and placed in front of the ruins of his once beautiful little village and he was scared.

He was scared for his parents and what might have become of them, he was scared of the Vikings that stood before him, and he was scared of what they might do to him.

He shivered from fear and the water that had cooled against his skin and chilled him to the bone. But suddenly, he was warm. He looked down to find a large pelt draped over his shoulders, then looked up to find a large man with short choppy blond hair, blue green eyes and strong masculine facial features standing over him. His gaze pierced through the young, scaring him and making him burst out into tears again.

Slowly the man crouched down so he was only a couple of inches above the sniffling boy and held him close. The young boy clung to the warm touch, to the reassuring presence and cried. He didn't understand why the man didn't hurt him, but he was grateful for it and for his kindness. He cried until he tired himself out and had to be carried by the man.

It took him a couple of days before he became used to the man and before he didn't tear up under his intense gaze. He watched the man for years, watching the ferocity and power he fought with contrast his gentle kindness whenever he addressed him. And now, he watched as he defended him against his own men with the same ferocity with which he fought his enemies.

Suddenly, he was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of someone singing. Every man on the ship stopped what they had been doing and made their way to the edge of the ship as if in a daze. All but himself and his father, who held him close.

* * *

 **I forgot to mention this in the prologue, but this story is based on the myth that if a fisherman has a particularly good catch he may find a havsbarn, "sea child," amongst it which he may take home and raise as a normal child until they reach adulthood when they return to the ocean and are never to be seen again. Havsrå can be harmless and even helpful creatures or can be vicious creatures that drag any men they get a hold of under. They have been known to warn fishermen of dangers, trade with humans, and inform fishermen who have won their favor of locations where the can get a big haul. Their songs are powerful enough to sink ships and they are much like Sirens in the Odyssey. They may transform into seals, sea birds, or other sea creatures.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Men were on all edges of the ship looking, and some even jumping, over. Amongst them was Matthias, whose gaze was locked with that of one of the three creatures in the water. A young man with longer hair than the other three, colored pale blond with dull blue eyes.

The creature rose out of the water with a kind smile and an outstretched arm for Matthias to take as he watched the beautiful creature in amazement. Hi enchanting icy blue eyes shone as his thin, pink lips curled into a delicate little smile. His skin was smooth and as pale as ivory and his hair appeared to be soft and feather-like, even as it was damp. The being's angelic appearance, along with its hypnotic song and lovely voice, drew Matthias in.

Berwald, appearing to have gone unaffected by the Havsmänn's song, was shocked to see his men's sudden change in behavior. They moved with no control over themselves and with no idea of what was happening; their only purpose appeared to be to approach the cause of such a beautiful noise. He had indeed heard the song, but it had not touched his heart as it had the other men, leaving himself and, strangely enough, his son as the only two not overtaken by the sweet hums of the havsrå.

He watched his men overwhelmed and unsure of what to do in the present situation when suddenly, he caught sight of Matthias. The man was staring into the water below with a distant look in his eyes. He was presently unaware of the entire situation and was under the influence of the havsrå along with the rest of the men, even the harsh rocking of the ship and the occasional spray of the ocean were not enough to bring him to his senses. Realizing something was wrong, Berwald gave orders to his son to remain where he was and rushed over to Matthias who was reaching over to take the beautiful havsrå's hand, now merely a few inches from the creature's grasp.

"Matth's! Get 'way from th're!" The booming voice seemed to do the trick. Matthias was snapped out of his daze, his attention shifting to the rapidly approaching giant. He slowly straightened himself, now no longer leaning over the edge, and looked around in an attempt to comprehend the situation, only to find his and Berwald's men jumping or being dragged over as waves crashed against the boat, making it rock harshly. The sky had grown dark and an eerie mist curtained his view. He stood there shocked at the strange and devastating scene, unable to derail his attention from it.

The young creature's eyes flared with rage, consumed by a flame, as its face became distorted with anger at his lost catch. Its song grew louder and more intense along with the treacherous waves and he lunged in an attempt to capture the man.

Matthias turned, startled at the sound of the eerie tune becoming even more overwhelming to find that the angered havsrå had launched itself at him. He closed his eyes and made an attempt to shield himself with his arms, not knowing how to resist the sudden attack, when he was shoved out of the way, landing on the deck of the ship with a loud thump. Matthias groaned, feeling the full force of the impact bruise his body and opened his eyes. Hearing a splash near him, he quickly scrambled to his feet. He looked over the edge of the ship to see Berwald being dragged under.

"Berwald!" He leaned his upper body over the rail of the ship, attempting to capture the man's hand before it was fully submerged in water, but only managed to graze his fingers.

Peter, who had been watching the entire scene through blurry, tear-filled eyes, screamed in horror as his father pushed Matthias out of the way and was dragged under in his stead. He remained paralyzed as Matthias jumped in after him and as the rest of the men continued to vanish from the ship, unable to believe what had occurred before him and unable to pull himself out of his grief as the closest thing he had to relatives battled for their lives beneath the ocean's surface.

Matthias had been quick to jump in after Berwald and found him struggling against the grip of the havsmänn as he was dragged deeper into the dark depths of the ocean, writhing, twisting, and kicking. He quickly swam over and made haste to pry the creatures hands off of Berwald, who was quickly depleting his store of oxygen with his struggle. Once he was freed Matthias kicked the creatures stomach, earning a pained and angry screech as it was pushed down by the impact.

The two broke the surface of the water and began gulping down air before they were dragged under again by two more of the creatures.

Berwald tugged and squirmed only managing to have the creatures claws dig deeper into his skin through his efforts. He turned his head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the creature, but only caught sight of two amethyst-like orbs full of hatred and what looked like a deep, all-consuming sadness. He stopped squirming, stunned at their intensity, but even more stunned at their beauty; however, he quickly regained his composure and began attempting to free himself once again.

The two struggled against them elbowing, kicking, and twisting. Finally, managing to get his arm free, Matthias pulled a small blade out of its sheath that had been situated in a belt around his waist, and sliced at the flesh of their captors, freeing himself and Berwald. He stayed behind as Berwald rose to the surface deciding to deal a bit of extra damage to the one that had nearly tempted him into the water, slicing at the tender flesh and throwing kicks and punches as best as he could. The other two soon came to rescue the dull eyed male from his cruel abuse, but were dealt with in the same manner, only to a lesser extent as his lungs begged for air and soon he had to rise to the surface once again.

Berwald who had reached the surface first was panting heavily, bleeding, and covered in scratches from the havsrå's claws. Matthias rose soon after him and was in the same, if not slightly worse, condition. They quickly glanced at one another, inspecting the other's damages, before looking up to find Peter peering over the edge of the ship with large, frightened eyes.

"Peter! Get away from there!" They shouted in unison, but the boy didn't budge, too frightened to move and too shocked to comprehend their words. His eyes only grew wider as he saw the creatures quickly approaching.

"Dad! Uncle Matthias! Look out!" He leaned over the edge, attempting to have his voice be heard by the men who were within dangers clutches, when a large wave knocked at the ship and threw the boy into the rugged waves, submerging his small body completely.

Berwald and Matthias watched, terrified, as the boy crashed against the cold, perilous ocean and was devoured by it.

Berwald's stomach dropped, his chest clenched and his heart drummed quickly and loudly. He quickly, and without a second thought, sunk back into the ocean. He needed to save his son, he needed to get him out of these waters, lest he suffer the same fate as so many if his men thus far. He was quick to discover the young boy, who was now surrounded by the three havsmänn.

He felt an awful dread wash over him and made to rush towards the boy, but stopped, stunned at how they simply stared at the boy with wide eyes.

One of them in particular, the havsmänn with the bright, lavender eyes looked about ready to cry. He studied him for a moment, noting his short blond hair that was floating in the water and small frame that began with a pale human torso, now covered in cuts and bruises, no doubt from Matthias, and ended in a glimmering lilac tail. He was stunningly beautiful and seeing him with such a pained expression and covered in wounds troubled Berwald.

He would have, and could have, watched the creature for hours, but he was soon broken out of his enchantment by the realization that their song had ceased, enveloping them in an eerie silence as the havsmänn slowly made its way towards the boy with an arm reaching out for him and a tearful smile on its face. The boy quickly attempted to move back in fear, attempting to grasp something to help him push away.

Berwald, having witnessed this, quickly forgot his infatuation with the creature and made his way towards his son, breaking through the two that simply watched as the other came closer and closer to the frightened boy. He shoved the havsrå out of the way and gathered his son in his arms, making his way to the surface on his last breath.

Upon reaching the surface he heard the Dane calling out to him and looked up to find that he had gotten back onto the ship along with several other men, who were in turn pulling the other survivors out. The waves were beginning to subside and the sky was beginning to clear.

"Berwald! Give me Peter!" He held out his arms and Berwald complied, quickly lifting his son and placing him into Matthias' arms as several of Berwald's own men came over to lift him out of the sea. Matthias set the boy down on the ship and draped a large pelt over the boy and knelt in front of him inspecting him for any sign of injury.

"Are ya okay? Are ya hurt? " He asked slightly panicked. In truth, he had only known the boy as long as his and Berwald's alliance, but he had quickly grown to like the happy, energetic boy and it pleased him immensely that the boy called him "uncle." Like Berwald, a dreadful fear had consumed him when he saw the boy get flung over the ship and into the water, and he would have gone after him as well, but he knew Berwald would first die before anything happened to his son. He truly was a lion protecting his cub and so he had decided it'd be best to prepare the ship for their escape. He snapped the remaining men out of their daze and ordered them to lift the survivors out of the water and put the ones that were healthy enough at the ores to stroke. He then had waited, with growing fear, for the two to rise out of the water. An immense relief washed over him at seeing the boy alive and without a scratch, but it puzzled him as well. He stared at the boy perplexed and looked up to find him staring silently at the ground.

"Are ya alright, Peter? " he asked once again, more softly this time. Peter simply nodded, not meeting his eyes. He was about to ask him what was wrong when he heard the heavy steps of Berwald. He quickly stood and made his way over to the remainder of the men to see that they had gotten who they could out of the water.

"Alright! Let's get outta here! " He boomed, prompting them to start moving the ship. He turned back to see Berwald holding his crying son in his arms. The weeping boy looked so frail in the giants clawed on bleeding arms. Curiosity washing over him again, he made his way over to the two and stared at the boy for a second, searching for any sign of any kind of injury, but found none.

"Peter... why did they not harm you? Did they not see you? " He asked, earning a glare from Berwald, probably for reminding the boy of the situation. Peter looked up from his father's shoulder and over to Matthias, his body trembled and his eyes were red and puffy.

"I don't know" he said between hiccups and buried his head at the crook of his father's neck.

"I was so scared," he cried in a muffled shriek "and one of them said that I was his." He continued to sob terrified at the possibility of it being true. He didn't want to be one of them. They killed so many people so quickly and didn't even seem to care. He knew his father killed people, he'd had the misfortune of seeing it with his own eyes, but he knew how much of a toll it took on his father. He didn't understand why his father fought if it hurt him and when he'd asked all he'd told him was that it was "fer ya 'nd the little ones 'nd w'ves at home who c'n't f'ght for thems'lves" but he didn't understand. Wouldn't fighting hurt them more? He supposed he never really could understand why people fought and killed, especially not now when he saw what those creatures had done to his father's army. He was scared. He was so scared. His grip on his father's tunic tightened as he attempted to draw him closer when he noticed he was putting him down. He looked up to find that both his father and uncle were staring at him shocked.

"What'd ya s'y P'ter?" Peter stared at his father wide-eyed, the tears ceasing to run down his face.

"I-it said I was its son. But that's not true, right dad? I'm your son, right?" The boy looked up at the man with a pleading look, as if begging him to tell him that it couldn't possibly be true. That he was his son and before his he was the fisherman's, who had found him on his doorstep in the little village and that was it. He saw his father's eyebrows knit together and his lip purse as he thought, then he glanced back at Matthias, finding the man wearing a similar expression. His uncle and his father stared at each other, the question evident in their eyes.

He began to worry at their silence. Surely he didn't believe that. He couldn't believe that he was like them. But, then if he didn't believe it, him and his uncle wouldn't be staring at him like that. He would've told him right away. The boy's eyes began to water as a sob shook his body and broke the silence between the three.

Berwald's eyes softened as he knelt and pulled his son to his chest, wrapping his arms around his quaking figure.

"'Course 't's not true P'ter. Ah'm yer fath'r." He rubbed circles in the boys back attempting to soothe him.

"Yeah, kiddo. Don't worry about it. They were probably just tryin' ta mess with yer head like they did with everyone else," Matthias said, one hand ruffling Peter's hair and the other motioning to the men who were shuffling around the ship dripping wet. Peter giggled slightly at the scene. All these powerful warriors now looking like wet dogs, disoriented and noticeably upset.

"Atta boy, Peter. That's what I like ta see. Yer too happy a kid to be like any o' them, so don't worry about what they said." Matthias wiped the last tear off his face and gave him a large grin.

Meanwhile, Berwald watched his son, wondering. Peter could very possibly be one of them. He'd always had an affinity for the ocean and he always knew when a storm would come. He remembered when he'd taken him fishing he'd been extremely successful, and even when he'd found him his men had said he'd been in the ocean. It was a reasonable theory, but one that upset the boy greatly and, therefore, he would not entertain the notion any longer. He was Peter's father, his only parent, and he would protect Peter against everything, even against what he really was if he needed to.

Peter, having caught him staring, shot his father a wide grin, to which Berwald responded with a small quirk of the lip of his own. He'd protect that smile.

* * *

 **I have come to the realization that I have spelled 'Matthias' differently than how it's spelled for the character's name, but I am also too lazy to go back and change it. I mean, it's _a_ way of spelling the name. You guys are cool with that, right? Also, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes but if I go back I'll just end up changing a lot of it again and this chapter's real long. I don't own hetalia!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tino and Emil quickly made their way towards the two men who were still bobbing in the water, while Lukas followed slowly behind.

He'd endured the worst of it. He'd suffered the most abuse from the two, having been battling against them the longest, and it was taking a great toll on the speed of his movements. His entire body felt sore and stung and a slight move in the wrong direction would cause an intense, searing pain to shoot throughout his body. Emil looked towards his brother and faltered, he looked back to Tino, wondering if he had taken note of Lukas's condition, then back to his battered brother. Tino had not seemed to notice the great amount of damage dealt to his cousin, and if he did he didn't let it become known, shooting towards the two men, targeting them with eyes blinded by an immense hatred.

The men were just within their grasp when a sudden splash diverted their attention. It was a young boy who had fallen into the water.

Normally, it wouldn't have mattered, most children in these rugged waters would be thrown every which way, unable to resurface and break against the harsh sway of the ocean, ultimately facing a cruel fate as they gasped in the salty sea water and drowned. However, this boy's appearance quickly drew their attention. The two men were quickly forgotten as the three made their way over, with Tino in the lead.

They stopped and their eyes widened. Tino paused, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes becoming glossy. He slowly made his way over to the terrified boy reaching a shaky arm out to him. A small hopeful smile graced his lips.

"My son," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and quivering. The boy's eyes widened and he made to move back, when suddenly Tino was harshly shoved out of the way. His body cut through the ocean, leaving a trail of bubbling water. When he had finally steadied himself Tino heard the sound of choked, pained gasps. He looked to his cousins to find Emil holding Lukas in his arms as his wounds were reopened and he continued to bleed into the water. He clutched at his already bruised sides, which must have been the area of impact. For a moment the world seemed to stop and then it began to spin as he was finally able to process what was occuring before him, as if becoming aware of his surroundings for the first time in a long while. He hurried over to his bleeding cousin, worry evident on his looked up a small reassuring smile gracing his lips.

"Do not worry about me, cousin," He rasped out. "You have finally found your son, you must not let him be taken from you again." Tino looked to Emil to see the man nod in confirmation.

"I will look after my brother's wounds, you must retrieve your son. We will find you when my brother has healed enough." Tino backed away slowly and turned, he looked to the scene once again, knowing he would not be seeing the two for quite some time, before swimming to the surface to find the ship, a tiny speck on the horizon. He made haste to follow it before all traces of it vanished, weaving through the water as fast as he possibly could.

* * *

Peter had long since fallen asleep, his crying having exhausted him, and was resting in Berwald's arms when they finally arrived. The sky had been painted purples and reds as the sun set, and the glowing lanterns were being lit on the ship and in the camp. People bustled around helping unload the ship of the supplies they had brought and of the injured men. Berwald sighed, discontent at the number of men that remained. Of the two hundred plus men they had had on the ship only about one hundred and thirty seven remained. It was not as major a loss as it could have been, but it was still one that would matter, as every man was essential to the outcome of this war.

Berwald looked to Peter and brushed hair out of his face, remembering what he had said. Even if he were like them, he didn't behave in such a manner and he was just a boy after all, he couldnt blame him in the gently lifted Peter and carried him off the ship, making his way towards his tent and giving a nod to the men that greeted him. Candles were lit inside the shelter, giving it a yellow glow. He lay Peter on his bed gently, so that he may lie comfortably, and placed a blanket over the boy. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep and rolled over, grasping the cloth in his small hands as he did so. Berwald, satisfied that the boy was comfortable enough, was about to exit his makeshift home to address his men about the war and strategies, when the Dane suddenly entered. He had a grave look and he refused to meet Berwald's eyes.

"Wh't is 't Matthi's?" Berwald cautiously approached him, knowing from his expression that he wouldn't like what he had to say. Matthias did not respond immediately, but stood pensively, as if trying to find a way to express his thoughts.

"It's about Peter." He finally stated.

"G't out."

"Berwald, listen to me," Matthias insisted taking a step towards the man, "he could cause trouble for us."

"He's j'st a boy."

"No! Apparently he's not! Apparently, he could very well be one of those beasts. Ya saw what they did to all those men! Hell! Ya experienced it first hand! It ain't safe to have him here."

"Keep yer voice down ya'll wake'm." Berwald retorted, completely ignoring Matthias in favor of watching his son.

Matthias gripped Berwald's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Are ya even listenin ta me? That kid could probably kill everyone here if he wanted ta. We need to get ridda him." Berwald pushed Matthias's hands off of him, meeting his gaze with stern eyes.

"'nd wh't d'ya recommend we do?" Berwald's hands were shaking now with both rage and fear. Matthias could be right, this could end up being troublesome in the future, but he'd grown to care deeply for the boy and he knew well how much parting with him would hurt. He knew he wouldn't leave him, not willingly anyway.

"We give'm back." Matthias stated simply. He cared for the boy, he truly did, but if he was dangerous he would cost many lives and he couldn't, _wouldn't,_ risk that. Matthias watched Peter's still form. Sure, he looked harmless now, but maybe that wasn't even his true form. He didn't know everything his kind was capable of. He'd seen some of it and he wasn't hoping to see anymore. Even so,the thought that he might never see him again saddened him. He'd always lighten up the mood, he truly was their sun in a sense, but the sun was dangerous and could burn you the closer you were to it, and he wouldn't allow that.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Berwald's troubled sigh.

"L't's go. G't a war ta fight," he said before slipping out of the tent. Matthias gave a final glance and sad smile to Peter's small figure before following Berwald.

* * *

Beneath the confines of his blanket, Peter shook. His silent tears had become harder to control as he let out small choked sobs once his father and uncle had left. He sat up and wiped at his eyes, attempting to halt the flow of tears that continued to run down his face. His uncle didn't want him here and his father had barely said a thing in his defense. He was scared, once again a terrible dread consumed his being. His chest grew heavy and his breathing quickened. His father was going to abandon him. He'd probably toss him in the ocean and carry on with his life. But why wouldn't he? He was a monster, his uncle had said so and his uncle had cared for him nearly as much as his father.

Suddenly, a great determination flooded throughout Peter, smothering his fears. He wouldn't allow his father to abandon him. He would not be discarded. Peter wiped his eyes of any remaining tears and planted his feet on the floor and stood. He made his way over to one of the trunks in the tent and began digging throught it until his fingers grazed fabric. Peter yanked it out, causing everything else to fall into disarray and held the medium-sized sack in front of him. If his dad didn't want him there anymore, then he would go, but there was no way he would be dumped who knows where. He quickly pattered out of the tent, leaving behind the blanket his father had placed over him in a crumpled mess.

* * *

 **It hasn't been that long since my last update right? ... Can't remember when my last update was... Oh well~ I'm sure it hasn't been longer than a week. Speaking of which, what'd you guys do for the Fourth of July? For those who celebrate it, I mean. I went to the beach and got a nasty sunburn and then almost froze to death cuz the beach is cold and windy when the sun sets and I had forgotten that small detail...**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Berwald and Matthias were making their way through the small camp after their meeting. It appeared that the Slavics had had a victory in the last battle; however, the number of men they had lost had been substantial. Nevertheless, they had the numbers to go virtually unaffected by such a loss of men. Berwald and Matthias did not. Every man and every kill counted. Berwald knew that the men lost on the trip over would cost them dearly in the next battle and therefore, a number of risky strategies had been proposed, each of which the Dane was quick to accept, while Berwald had been quick to turn down. It was becoming harder for them to see eye to eye and that was becoming more troublesome.

Beside Berwald, Matthias continued to blather on and on about nonsensical things, while he contemplated on what should be done about Peter. Matthias appeared to be dead set on returning the boy to wherever he came from, obviously not willing to risk him becoming a burden and costing them more men and, ultimately, the war. Berwald, however, could never possibly imagine the cheery boy ever doing such a thing. It was ludicrous. Simply because they were unaware of the nature of the creatures did not mean to Berwald that they were ultimately evil. He couldn't believe that anything that beautiful could be evil, at least, not purely.

The two continued on their way to their tents when Berwald stopped abruptly, noticing strange movement by the shore. Squinting, he observed the water near the site of the ships.

A form was shifting, distorting, and lifting itself out of the water. The miniscule waves washed over its back as the pale moon shone a faint light, making the many droplets on the form's body sparkle and glimmer, beautifully mimicking the stars above.

Berwald looked over to Matthias to find the man, not in awe as he was, but on edge. He slipped into his tent and returned quickly with a bright red halberd resting on his shoulders as he strut over to the beach, a good distance away, while Berwald closely behind.

* * *

Tino lay in the water hunched over slightly, resting on his forearms. He panted and gasped in pain as his tail split and legs began to form.

Vibrant scales withdrew into pale, smooth skin. Fins gradually became thicker and split into five digits as his transformation neared its end.

Finally, he was left with skin where scales had previously been, feet where fins had been, and legs where his tail had been.

He slowly rose, first rising with his legs tucked beneath him, then on his knees, and slowly he pulled a leg out from under him and pulled himself into a kneeling position before finally standing on shaky legs. Taking his first step, he felt a searing pain stab at his legs. He let out a soft grunt from the pain and felt himself stumble as his knees locked and he toppled over. He braced himself, expecting to crash onto the shallow water that encircled his calves, when he encountered something broad and hard sooner than he had expected and grabbed onto it hoping to steady himself. He nearly fell backwards when he felt it rise suddenly and gripped tighter. When he finally looked up to figure out what he had supported himself on, he found a man staring down at him with intense, seafoam green eyes.

He was at a loss for words simply staring, forgetting where he was until he felt something cold and hard press against the side of his neck. He slowly turned to find a familiar looking man with a cocky smile plastered on his face holding a large axe dangerously close to his neck.

"That was quite a show ya put on there, beast. Now what is it yer doin' here and careful, one hum outta that pretty little mouth'a yers and yer whole _pretty little head_ 'll come off."

Tino snapped out of his daze, he loosened his grip of the cloth he clung to, almost falling into the shallow water. A pair of hands held him steady, gripping him gentler than he'd expected.

"Y-you're the men that... My cousin almost died because of you!" Tino made to take a step forward but was held firmly in his place as the edge of the axe pushed deeper into his neck. He gasped in shock and held his breath until it was pulled back slightly.

"And you killed plenty of our men," the Dane snarled. "So give me a reason why I shouldn't kill ya here and now."

Tino hesitated. He knew he didn't have the upper hand, knew very well he wouldn't have it here on land, but he also knew he couldn't show any sign if weakness. He was thankful that the drops of water that littered his body disguised the newly forming perspiration.

He cleared as much fear and hesitation off his face as possible and looked the Dane straight in the eyes.

"I only want my son. You took him from me, I know you did, and I just want him back. Please."

He felt the man's grip on him become stronger and looked up to find that his gaze had hardened and he no longer watched him, but instead, stared straight ahead. His brows had furrowed and his jaw had clenched. His whole facial expression seemed tense. Tino opened his mouth to speak, but found that he had no words to say to him.

The blade was removed from his neck and he shifted his attention to the Dane.

"Fine," he stated simply, "you can take Peter and go."

"Matthias," the man holding him snarled threateningly.

"Peter... is that what you've named him?" Peter... Tino mentally repeated the name. His son's name.

"No, I didn't. Berwald here is actually the-"

"D'dn't n'me him and ya can't h've 'im."

Tino looked back to the man holding him, stunned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He broke out of the man's grasp and took a step closer to him.

"He's _my_ son, " he spat, a vicious rage consuming him.

The man looked him in the eyes, his own holding a terrifying coldness."He doesn't w'nna go w'th ya." Berwald kept a straight face as he dealt this crushing blow.

Tino's anger simmered and was extinguished by incredulous shock.

"No. No that's not true. You're lying. You're a liar!" His breathing quickened. It wasn't possible, he thought, it couldn't be poissible. No! His son couldn't have said that to him, not when he loved him so much, not when he'd searched this long.

Tears began to swell in his eyes as he stared straight into Berwald's eyes. He searched frantically for any sign of insincerity, but found none. Even still, he could not bring himself to believe him.

"No. You're lying. You don't want me to have him back, so you're lying to me. He has to tell me! You can't be the one to tell me. You can't possibly know. You're lying!" His words were becoming more desperate as if hoping to convince himself that it wasn't true. Tears streaked his face. He couldn't breathe, his chest felt heavy and he couldn't breathe. He gasped desperately as tears continued to run down his face. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold. His vision became fuzzy from the tears and the short rapid gasps that did nothing but starve his lungs.

Matthias simply watched as Tino slowly began slipping away and as Berwald stood there conflicted, unsure of how to deal with the young man who broke apart so easily at his words.

"We'll take ya to him," Matthias finally said. "That way he can tell ya himself, maybe he'll change his mind."

The two men snapped their attention to him. Tino looked up at him with hopeful, pleading eyes while Berwald looked at him as if hoping he would spontaneously combust.

"Berwald, ya can't possibly want ta deny him the right ta see his kid, could ya?" Matthias watched him, smirking slightly, knowing he would give in. He knew Berwald didn't want Peter to leave, but he also knew Berwald wasn't cold-hearted. He would crumble under the attention of the pleading lilac eyes that had now turned to him.

"... F'ne, but we need t' get ya cl'thes f'rst, ya c'n't walk'round like that."

Tino looked at the two to find that their bodies were almost fully covered, then looked down, suddenly feeling incredibly bare. He wrapped his arms around himself, a rosy blush tainting his cheeks.

"I don't have any clothes..." He mumbled looking away in an attempt to save himself the embarrassment of seeing their reactions. He had been standing in front of those men yelling and crying, the whole time completely and utterly exposed. He could kick himself for being so stupid. His whole face became incredibly hot and he felt his eyes water slightly. He had to say something, anything, to save himself any further damage to his pride.

He opened his mouth to speak when he felt something drop on his head. He slowly reached up to retrieve it, suprised, and held it in front of him. He looked over it to find Berwald without his tunic, sculpted chest bare, as he looked away with small tints of pink grazing his cheeks, but still appearing to be less than happy with the way things were going.

Tino stared in awe, mouth slightly parted at the man's well sculpted chest. A rush of fear mixed in with his admiration. He also noted the bandages on the man's arms and a small section of his torso.

If this man wanted to, he could seriously injure him as if nothing, he noted, looking down at his lean, if not slightly pudgy figure, feeling even more self-conscious than before. He hid himself with the tunic, hugging it to his chest tightly.

"Put 't on."

Tino jolted, startled, and quickly complied. It took him a few tries, as there were so many holes and he couldn't manage to get his head in the right one. The garment fit him up to his mid thigh, still leaving much exposed, but not uncomfortably so. When he turned to the two men he found the blue-green eyed man staring at him with an eyebrow raised slightly and the man with the axe watching him with an amused smirk.

He looked down, mentally scolding himself for managing to embarrass himself so much in such a short amount of time.

They began to walk back towards the camp with Tino in between Matthias, who was in front of him, and Berwald, who followed closely behind the two.

"B'rwald."

"What? " Tino looked up, surprised by the man speaking so suddenly.

"M' name's Berwald."

" O-oh, " he said, still a little confused before he realized that the man was introducing himself. "Oh! Um... Tino..." he mumbled entertaining himself with the material of the tunic. Berwald gave a grunt in response.

"There's no reason ta be tellin' 'em yer name, Waldy, he ain't stayin' long anyway."

Berwald glared at the back of the man's head.

"T'ld ya not ta c'll me th't."

"Did ya? Don't remember ya ever bringin' it up, _Waldy_ ," the Dane mocked.

Berwald clenched his fists. The stupid man took everything as a joke. He was hardly fit to be a leader, he treated everything as if it were a game and ridiculed those who opposed them instead of attempting to understand another perspective. In Berwald's opinion, he needed someone to crush that big ego of his.

As they neared their tents Matthias' steps slowed considerably before he faltered and turned to face the two men that had been walking behind him in silence.

"W-wait, mayb-" He was cut off by the frantic cries of an elderly woman who came running towards them.

"Mah lord! Mah lord! A terrible thing h's happened." She slowed down and gasped, attempting to regain her breath. She was a small, plump woman with graying hair and a gentle face, now painted red from exertion and full of fear.

Berwald quickly stepped forward, recognizing the woman as his son's nurse.

"Wh't's wrong? Has anythin' h'ppened ta P'ter?" He questioned, worry evident on his features. He stepped closer to the old woman, placing a gentle hand on her back and holding her steady as she composed herself.

She harshly gripped the arm holding her up, staring up at Berwald with wide fearful eyes.

"Peter's gone."

* * *

 **Poor Finland. Can't help but feel that it's my fault, though... Anyway! You know what I just realized? I'm assuming you guys figured that Arthur was Peter's first guardian but I never wrote whether it was with Alfred or Francis. Oh well, I'll let you guys pick, not like it matters anyway. Also! I think the next chapter's gonna be a Peter chapter, as in his POV. Reviews are appreciated I love knowing what you guys think! ALSO REALLY SORRY FOR THE DELAY.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Peter left the camp with some food and a small dagger he'd found lying around, as well as a couple of changes of clothes, a fur pelt he'd crammed into his pack and a small bow and a quiver, filled with a couple of arrows, he had strapped across his chest. To be honest, he had no idea where he was going and even began to hesitate a bit when he noticed he could no longer see the burning lanterns from the camp. Maybe if he returned his father would reconsider and allow him to stay, Peter thought hopefully, but too soon did he remember that even if his father changed his mind Matthias was incredibly stubborn. If he returned they'd remain cautious and destroy any chance of escaping again. No. He couldn't return it would be a dead end from there, his father would probably think him even more of a nuisance.

He forced himself onward, gripping the strap of his pack even more tightly. He could fend for himself. He was the son of a Viking leader. Of course, not technically because then he wouldn't be in this mess, but still, he had been taught to hunt and defend himself and he would do it for the rest of his life if it meant he would have a say in what would happen to him.

The pale moon lit his path as he proceeded through the thick woods. The chirp of the crickets was occasionally accompanied by the hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves as the wind urged them in a certain direction.

It was a long while before he decided he should rest and continue in the morning. He started a small fire and encircled it with some stones before unpacking the pelt and the dagger. He lay the pack down to be used as a pillow, placing the blade under it, and was about to lay down when he heard a rustling of leaves in the bush directly beside him. He hurriedly shot his hand under his pack to retrieve his dagger, when the shuffling of the leaves and branches repeated. Panicking, he looked around, wondering what should be done. He made to move back, but was met with the scalding stones. The movement repeated itself, this time accompanied by a pair of eyes that followed him.

His heart drummed quickly against his ribs as he held his burnt hand near his chest, the other shakily held the dagger outward towards the eyes.

The creature rushed out of it's hiding spot, charging at Peter who, in his fright, dropped the dagger and attempted to shield himself with his able hand.

He shook uncontrollably, eyes shut tightly, waiting to be devoured and torn apart by razor sharp teeth, but instead was met with licks accompanied by the small yip of a dog.

He opened his eyes and slowly lowered his hands. He looked down to see a filthy little ball of fur panting and pawing at his chest. He gave a short breathy laugh of relief as he picked up the creature to examine it. He giggled again when the pup began licking his face. Setting the creature down, he began petting its tangled, dirty fur.

"You scared me! I thought you were a wolf or a bear, but you're just a dog! Not that I'd be scared if it were a wolf or a bear, though. It's just that if it were they'd probably eat my food or something."

The small dog gave a small bark and began scratching at Peter energetically.

"Honest! I swear! 'Cause, you know, I'm the son of a Viking," he stated proudly, then turned to point at his bow that lay beside him. "See that? I'm also one of the best archers in the _whole_ camp, so, obviously, I wouldn't be scared of no bears. By the way, I'm Peter! What's your name? " The dog sat on its rump, tilting it's head and staring curiosly at Peter.

"What's the matter? Don't'cha got a name? Surely your owners gave you one right?" The dog continued to stare at him.

"Well, then I guess you don't... Well I'd give you a name, but I don't know what I'd name you. I don't even know if you'll be here when I wake up. Speaking of which, I need to sleep. You're more than welcome to stay, but you don't have to."

The dog watched as Peter repositioned his pack and pulled the fur over him then, deciding it looked comfortable, trotted over to Peter and plopped down next to him, resting her small head on his stomach.

A gentle smile graced Peter's lips as he caressed the peaceful dog's head.

* * *

Peter woke up the next morning to the feeling of something wet on his face. He attempted to swat it away, but found the action went on undeterred and that his hand stung slightly at contact. A groan escaped his lips as he rolled over, followed by a yelp that startled him fully awake. Sitting up, he found the small dog from the previous day running around him to the other side.

A large grin spread across his face as he leaned over to hug the dog.

"You stayed!"

The small dog responded by animatedly licking his face as Peter giggled with joy.

"Oh that's so great! That means you're my pet now, right? Alright well... I'm gonna name you... Hana! Do you like that? Or would you prefer something else?" Hana simply continued to bark and attempt to climb onto Peter as he began to get up to gather his belongings. He paused shortly before he started and tore the bottom of one of his tunics and wrapped the scrap around his mildly injured hand. Once he finished, he made his way over to the burnt out flame from the previous night and began kicking it and scattering its remains.

He turned to find the small dog staring at him with its head tilted.

"It's so I won't leave a trail in case dad sends anyone looking for me. It'd be suspicious for anyone to be camping this close to their base don't you think?" Hana voiced her approval as she ran towards the few remains of the fire and began to kick dirt onto them.

"You're pretty smart you know that? Alright, let's go!"

* * *

 **I'm REALLY sorry! I know it's been, like, forever, but I seriously just couldn't bring myself to edit this and finish it and I'm sorry it's probably not worth the long wait, but I swear I'll have the next chapter out in at MOST a week... I think...Anyway! School's starting soon so I'm not sure if that means I'll update more in an attempt to procrastinate on my homework or less because of too much homework... I really hope it's the former.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"What d'ya mean he's gone missin'!?" Matthias was the first to speak up and break the tense silence, whose only companion was the blubbering of the old nurse.

His outburst only exacerbated her sobbing, as it became louder and more hysterical when she began to try to explain the situation.

"Went in after ya left for meeting- gone- looked all over," her wailing and constant hiccuping tore her sentence into unintelligible fragments that took both men some time to decipher.

"Th's not p'ssible, he w's sleepin' when ah left..."

A sudden thought came crashing over Berwald. What if Peter had heard them? If he had then it was no surprise that he'd escaped. He hadn't come off as someone adamantly rejecting Matthias's proposal, and up to this point, he wasn't so sure he was completely against it.

Berwald heaved out a sigh, placing a hand over his eyes. He couldn't process this information quick enough. If Peter had left this late at night he could be faced with any kinds of dangers. There were wild animals, bandits, enemy soldiers, he could easily become lost or fall and split his head open. Berwald shook the graphic images his mind had conjured up away, letting his hand fall to his side. He'd probably have a great lead on them, the meeting hadn't exactly been short.

"Why di'n ya tell m' earlier?" He turned to the poor sobbing woman, fixing her with an intense glare. "Ya h'd about 'n hour 'nd a half. Should'n'a taken ya th't long ta figure out he was missin'."

The woman shrunk back under the man's intimidating gaze, muffling her sobs with her hands.

"A-ah thought he was runnin' 'round s-somewhere. Di'n t-think he was-" At this point the woman completely broke down. Her sobbing became loud wails, and any chance of an intelligible answer being heard was gone.

It was a reasonable reaction. The old woman had cared for the young boy since he had arrived, giving him lessons in everything from the language to the culture and, before him, she looked after Berwald. Having lost one of her boys and being treated so coldly by the other was too much for her to bear.

Meanwhile, just behind Berwald, throughout the whole scene, stood Tino, frozen by the news. Silent tears slipped down his eyes, caressing his cheeks before crashing onto the ground. He looked down, watching them moisten the dirt beneath him, his fisted hand over his mouth silencing his shuddering breaths.

"A-aren't you going to go after him?" He finally managed to choke out with a wavering voice.

The two men turned to him startled, having forgotten his existence.

"No, " Matthias finally spoke, barely beyond a whisper. "We're at war, can't do nothin'. Can't go sacrificin' needed men and horses to search for him."

Tino was left dumbfounded by the man's response. Surely it wouldn't take too long to find him, not with help and that way they could return much more quickly. He turned to Berwald to see what he thought of the other's response, only find him hanging his head with both of his hands over his eyes. His hopes were crushed at the sight. The man wouldn't, or rather, couldn't do anything about the situation either.

"B-but he's your son," he said taking a step closer to Berwald. "Y-you have to find him. He could get hurt. He's just a boy." Tears began to rapidly stream down Tino's face. He hesitated a bit before he took another step closer and slowly lay a hand on Berwald's shoulder, causing the man to jolt slightly at the touch. He finally removed his hands from his face, a solemn expression etched onto his features.

He looked down at the smaller man to find him looking up at him through bleary desperate eyes.

"Please. You have to do some-"

"He'll be fine. He knows how ta fight and defend himself," the Dane interrupted.

Tino slowly dropped his hand from Berwald's shoulder, letting it lie limp against his side. He knew where this was going. Nothing was going to be done to retrieve the boy. The man, seeing his hopeless gaze, attempted to justify his decision.

"Listen, right now there are hundreds of our men fighting against forces that greatly outnumber us. We can't risk surrendering any of our soldiers or horses I already told ya. The most important thing's the wa-"

Tino turned on his heel. He didn't give his actions a second thought, and before he knew it his fist had collided harshly with Matthias' face, and sent the man crumbling to the ground. The nurse yelped in shock, while Berwald's eyes widened in shock. Matthias looked up, confused, before his features became distorted by anger.

He quickly got to his feet and gathered the front of the smaller man's tunic in his hands. Tino shut his eyes and braced himself. His small form quaked at the thought of a blow from the powerful man, but after a moment of waiting without any impact, he peeked to see what had stopped the impending strike.

His eyes widened to see that Berwald was holding back the man's fist. As Matthias continued to struggle, his grasp became tighter until the man, deciding hitting Tino wasn't worth the risk of having his wrist snapped, lowered his arm and released him, causing Tino to fall unceremoniously to the ground. The Swede heaved him to as feet as Tino only continued to stare in a mixture of awe and confusion.

He assumed that the reason for his amazement was the man's protection of him, but couldn't help but admit that it also had to do with the look he got in his eyes when he had done it. It was fierce and determined and reminded him of a predator getting ready to attack its prey. Berwald returned his stare for a moment, making Tino squirm, before turning back to Matthias.

"Yer in ch'rge 'til I g't back."

Matthias jolted at the sound of his voice, taking a small step back.

"What d'ya mean until ya get back? Ya aren't gonna go look for him are ya? He'll come back eventually! I'm worried 'bout him too, but more lives are at stake here, and the gods know yer men won't listen ta a word I say!"

"Then make 'em listen. Ah trust ya 'nough ta hold th'ngs t'gether 'til ah g't back."

With that, he made his way towards the sobbing woman, gave her instructions, then turned to Tino. The man had finally regained himself enough to be able to see past his own amazement and had been watching the exchange between the two in shock and a hint of nervousness.

"We'll leave in th' mornin'. She'll sh'w ya wh're ya'll be sleepin'." Without further explanation, Berwald walked away leaving Matthias with an incredulous, if not slightly panicked, look on his face and Tino to be dragged off by the sniffling maid towards one of the tents.

The old woman led him silently to his tent and made sure he felt at home, asking if he was comfortable, if he needed anything to eat or drink or more blankets before excusing herself.

"Thank you, " he whispered. The woman paused by the entrance as tears began to tumble down her face again.

"I'm sorry ah shoulda takin' more care in protectin' him. It's all mah fault." Tino, unsure of what to do, quickly made his way to her side, kneeling slightly, and lay a hand on shoulder her, smiling reassuringly. In truth, he had blamed her for his son's disappearance, but seeing her so remorseful pulled at his heartstrings, and he couldn't help bu to pity the woman and comfort her. It was no more her fault that Peter went missing now, than it was his all those years ago. She actually reminded him a bit of himself, so he provided her with the same hope his cousin's had provided him.

"Don't worry. I know we'll find him."

"Ah lost yer son," she hiccuped. "Yeh were finally gonna see him and ah lost'm."

Tino stiffened as the reality of the situation finally hit him. It was true. He was about an hour too late, only moments away from finally meeting him. After so many years of searching and mourning and being by the possibility that he could be dead, he was about to meet him. He was about to meet the son he had only known for a few months, but had loved for years; and yet, he wasn't fast enough. Tears began to sting in his eyes at the thought.

"Oh... yes," he replied, gently dabbing away the newly forming tears with his tunic. "But how did you know?"

"The chieftain told me," she said attempting to compose herself.

"Ah think that's why he's willin' ta leave and go look for him. I think he wants ta help ya," she chuckled, wiping her eyes with her apron, " this is little Peter's tent. He told me ta bring ya here."

Tino looked around, finally _seeing_ the space around him. He scanned through it, laying his eyes on a small chest at the very corner of the tent. He allowed his curiosity to take over as he turned away from the woman to examine it. He slowly made his way over to the chest and knelt down in front of it. Cautiously, he snapped open the clasps on either side of the box and hoisted up the heavy lid.

Inside, he found an assortment of toys. There were wooden swords, a worn out little bear, and several skillfully carved figurines. He plucked out a small carved toy and examined it. It was a troll, fitting the stories his cousin had told him down to the last detail. It was beautiful, in its own way. He smiled softly at it and wondered if his son had played with it, or if it was possibly one of his favorites. Caressing the small features he wondered if he would soon be able to play with him.

"Ah must be goin' now," the woman said, startling him and causing the toy to clatter against the ground.

"O-oh right... thank you, once again."

She pushed open one of the flaps, revealing the dark night beyond the cloth, but paused before turning back to him with a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't take Peter away from 'im. He loves 'im as much as any parent would love a child." Without waiting for a reply, she left, leaving Tino alone to ponder her sudden request. He slowly tore his eyes away from the entrance, and returned his attention back to the small toy. He picked it up and caressed its smooth carvings, before setting it back down. Lifting himself up, he made his way around the room. He saw a couple of things, but nothing that would really tell him about the boy. It was obvious that most of the things were impersonal and had simply been placed there in preparation of his arrival.

Feeling a bit tired, he blew out the candle that illuminated the tent and went to bed; however, his thoughts prevented him from attaining any sleep immediately.

He thought about the events of the day and all he had seen. He thought of the great care his son was provided with under the humans he'd almost killed. Most of all, he thought of the old woman's words.

He pitied the woman and her manner of complying with such kindness to her orders even with tear-stained cheeks and tears that threatened to spill, and wondered why she still spoke on behalf of the man who treated her so coldly when she, herself, was suffering.

If she were to actually have been upset, wouldn't she be happy that the man was having his child taken? And, of course, she had reason to be mad, for she tried to care for the child as best as she could and yet was scolded for her efforts.

Weren't the humans he had seen cruel and selfish? Yet, the woman was willing to ask him to not take the child on behalf of the same man who had reduced her to tears. As well as that, even that man was willing to risk his victory in war to help him look for his son and the other willing to risk the boy he cared for in order to protect his home through victory.

His eyelids became heavy as sleep began to get the best of him. But just as his thoughts became messy, he found himself pondering whether his belief of all humans being cruel was true until he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **I'M SORRY. OMG I'M MORE THAN ONE WEEK LATE ... I mean.. it could be worse right :D? It's just that school happened so fast and I was expected to do things the first day and I can't even go on my phone in any of my classes to write and edit bits and pieces when I have free time... that kinda means my updates are gonna be a little slow.. BUT I'LL TRY SUPER HARD! Anyway thanks so much for reading and stuff. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

The next morning, Tino was awoken by several women entering the tent, each carrying something in their arms. Pulling him out of bed in a confused daze, they proceeded to strip and wash him.

As the grooming progressed, the soft blush coating Tino's cheeks intensified until the boy was completely red and a little teary-eyed. His eyes refused to leave the ground and his body remained tense throughout the entirety of the pampering.

Finally, the same woman who had shown him to his room the previous day entered with a long tunic in her arms. Dismissing the other servants, she made her way over to a madly blushing Tino. She chuckled lightly as she placed the garments on the bed.

"S'rry for th' rude'wakening-" She paused, staring puzzled at the dress, before turning her attention back to Tino.

"Ah'm sorry, dear, ah don't think ya ev'r told m' yer name." He looked up, slightly startled by the sudden sound of her voice, but quickly recovered himself.

"O-oh right. I'm sorry, that was rude of me... My name's Tino," he held out a hand for the woman to shake, as his cousin had told him it was customary to shake one's hand upon introduction. To be honest, he didn't understand why a person had to do so, and he was a bit unsure if that was what Lukas had told him all those years ago, but he thought it best to try. He wouldn't doubt Lukas' information, whether he remembered it correctly or not, as Lukas had been the only one to visit land out of the three cousins, and rather frequently at that, although he had wished his cousin had provided him with information on appearances, as in the need for clothes, deciding that if he had, a good deal of the embarrassment from the previous day might have been avoided.

Upon holding his hand out, he came to the realization that it hurt. _A lot._ He brought it closer to his eyes to study it, finding that his knuckles were covered in painful purple, yellow, and greenish splotches.

The woman took his hand, tutting at it, before walking out of the tent, leaving a still naked Tino to stand there confused.

As seconds ticked by his attention was drawn to the articles of clothing that lay neatly folded on the bed. Stepping closer he found two separate parts that made up the garment along with some beautifully crafted brooches and a long cord.

Tino picked up the first piece of clothing, long linen material dyed a brilliant shade of blue, laid at the top of the pile. It appeared to be a tunic, although much longer than the one he'd been given the previous day. And much more suited to his body, he noticed. One of the brooches was fastened around the neck, keeping it together.

He gently set it aside and examined the next garment. It was of shorter length and of different material, left to a pure white hue. Like the other material, brooches secured the dress, although this time, pinned to two straps holding the entire thing together. Each of the parts had intricate designs stitched onto them in golden string.

Just as he was admiring the lovely dyes and embroidery of the dress, a voice spoke.

"Th'y're made fer pers'n o' noble blood." Tino started, caught off guard by the sudden presence of another person.

"O-oh? Then why am I to wear it? " He turned to the elder woman confused.

He saw no reason for anyone there to treat him so nicely. The guilt of it all made him wish they would treat him the way the Dane had.

The woman smiled softly, setting down a mortar she had brought along with her, filled with a brownish green paste. Grabbing Tino's hand she began to slather the cool goo onto his colorfully bruised hand.

"Well, 'n a sense ya are o' nobility. Yer Peter's birth par'nt 'nd he's the chieftain's son so he s'ys ya should be treated with th' same r'spect as a noble." The elderly woman picked up a long cloth and began wrapping Tino's hand. " Really musta bin s'me hit if ya hurt yer hand this b'dly," she chuckled. "Either that or the Dane's lead'r's got a hard head. But s'rves 'im right. Sayin' we should leave mah li'l Peter out there 'lone. There! That should keep it safe 'fore it heals."

She released Tino's hand and wiped her own on her smock.

"Now ta get ya inta s'me clothes." The elderly woman made her way over to the neatly laid out garment on the bed and began taking it apart, pulling up the innermost layer. She strode over to Tino and gently slid the long tunic over his head and guided his arms into the two holes. She then secured it together at the neck with a large decorative brooch.

The rich blue linen shift fell around his ankles, protecting his legs from the cold. After that had been put on Tino and straightened out she returned to the rest of the outfit, retrieving a shorter white woolen dress and two more brooches. Those were also guided onto him and each strap was secured with matching brooches and the whole thing was tied snug around his waist by a long richly dyed, violet stepped back to admire Tino in his blue and white garb.

Tino looked down at himself curiously. The whole thing was rather comfortable, not to mention very nice, but he couldn't help but wonder why his clothes looked so much like those of the few women he'd seen. He decided not to question it too much, happy to actually be wearing something. He was glad at how comfortably it all fit him, as if it were meant for his own body and nobody else's.

"Ya have ta go n'w. Chieftain's waitin' for ya 'n front o' his tent. C'mon I'll take ya there."

* * *

 **In general, women's clothing was made from the same materials as men's clothing. Typically, a woman wore an ankle length linen under-dress or shift, with the neck closed by a brooch. Over it, she wore a shorter length woolen dress suspended by shoulder straps fastened by brooches. This kind of suspended dress is sometimes called a hangerock or an apron-skirt.**

 **Just a little bit of info on what he's wearing. :D**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Berwald was amongst a group of men, providing them with instructions as they prepared two horses. The faint light from the moon was being replaced by the sun's brilliance as it steadily peeked over the mountains. The morning air was cool, although not unpleasantly so, and not a single person other than those preparing for Berwald's departure stirred.

Matthias stood a couple of feet away, watching anxiously as Berwald prepared to leave him in charge of two conflicting armies. He thrummed his fingers against his leg as he began to realize the man was actually going to go through with his departure.

"Berwald," he finally called out, drawing the man's attention from one of the servants. He waved him away and strode over to the other man.

"Ja?"

"Are ya sure about this? Can't someone else go fer Peter? We're in the middle o' a war." He did his best to maintain a calm air about him, however, his eyes reflected all his worries and desperation.

Berwald sighed, turning away.

"Can't stay h're worryin' 'bout Peter. Would be th' same as me goin' 'way."

"No! It wouldn't! If you were here then you could help me maintain order, but yer leavin' me here. Ya know yer men don't like me and ya know that our men don't like each other! "

Berwald's lip twitched up into a slight smirk.

"Maybe ya shouldn't'a 'nsulted 'em on th' boat ya might j'st end up w'th more o' those by th' time ah g't back." He said, nodding towards the deep purple bruise decorating his face before he walked away, the Danish leader scurrying behind him, pleading. Both men stopped short as the elderly woman approached with Tino.

They appeared to be happily chatting and as they approached, bits of their conversation could be

"'s that so? Sounds interestin' ain't nothin' like that here."

"Oh, yes! It's incredibly beautiful. My cousins and I really enjoy living there and I can't imagine what it'd be like to live away from there and I would really like to show my son someday, hopefully soon," he said turning a sad smile to the ground.

Berwald cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"Ya ready t' go?" Tino studied him with a confused expression before realizing what he was asking.

"O-oh! Yes. Are ... is anyone else coming?"

Berwald raised a brow, "No. Not 'nough men t' c'me. Need'em here 'n case somethin' happ'ns."

"Right. Well, let's go, then," he made his way over to the large, waiting animals while the three watched after him.

"... Is he in women's clothin'?"

Berwald grunted in agreement before turning to the smaller woman.

She ignored their inquiring stares in favor of watching Tino as he scurried around the animal, trying to make sense of it.

"T'was the only thing that'd'a fit 'im," she said, refusing to meet the other men's eyes. "Ya have ta admit, 'e does look rath'r pretty."

Berwald turned away from the woman to watch the smaller man continue to scuttle about the horses. He finally stopped in front of one, cautiously reaching forward to pet the animal. It huffed causing Tino to stumble, startled, and fall back. It was then that Berwald realized that there was a high possibility that the man had no idea how to ride a horse. He sighed, making his way over to him and lifting him off the ground.

"D'ya know how ta r'de a h'rse?"

Tino looked up at him, eyes wide, before turning to the large animal beside him and shaking his head.

"'lright."

Berwald whispered something to a couple of men, who immediately brought over a wooden crate and set it in front of one of the creatures.

"Get 'n," Berwald commanded.

"O-on where? On that? " He asked pointing to the crate.

Berwald hummed. "T' give ya boost 'nta th' horse."

Tino nodded slowly before going over to stand in front of the crate. He looked to the other man again, finding that he was still waiting on him.

He lifted a foot onto the crate, pushing himself off the ground with the other. Once on the crate, he turned back to Berwald for instruction.

"P't yer leg into the st'rrup and thr'w yer other leg ov'r the horse."

Tino looked about the horse trying to decide what the "stirrup" was, before locating the small flat-based loop dangling at the horse's side. Scooting closer to the horse, he secured his leg in the device before gripping the horse tightly and tossing a leg over the side, pressing his body close to the horse's soft hide in an attempt to stay on.

Berwald chuckled lowly as the man clung for dear life."Need ya t' straighten up, " he said patting the man's back.

"N-no I think I can ride like this, " he responded gently patting the horse.

"Maybe, but ah need ya t' open yer eyes too."

Tino, who hadn't realized he'd closed them, slowly opened one to find Berwald's lips twitching upward slightly in amusement, while the old woman and Matthias could hardly hide their overly amused grins.

Not too keen on being mocked in such a way, he slowly straightened his back until he was upright on the horse looking forward.

"Good. Keep yer b'ck straight. Point yer toes d'ownward. Gently squeeze the horse's side to go. Gr'p the reins tightly."

Berwald began listing off instructions as soon as Tino had gained balance, attempting to make up for the time spent trying to get him on the horse in the first place.

Tino quickly followed orders to the best of his ability, but, forgetting about his bruised hand, when he tried to grip the thin reins in his hands a sharp paint shot through it. He flinched, causing Berwald's smirk to fall.

"Wh't's wrong?" The old woman, having realized what happened, hurried around the horse to look at his bandaged hand.

"H'rt his hand hittin' Matthias. C'n ya find 'nother way ta go 'fter Pet'r?"

Berwald sighed, " C'n walk but it'll take long'r."

Tino's attention quickly shifted to the Swede. Any number of things could happen by the time they found Peter and he didn't want to leave him out there any longer than he had to.

As Berwald and the others spoke, Berwald and the woman over what could be done and Matthias about how unfair it was that nobody treated his face while Tino was treated as if he hadn't tried to kill them, Tino attempted to convince the concerned party that he could bear with the pain. He tried to call out to them, but when that didn't work he urged the horse The others turned at the sound of hooves against the earth.

"I-I'm fine. It's a little uncomfortable, but I want to find Peter as soon as possible so if you don't mind I'd like to go now." Despite his words his hand trembled, his eyes watered, and he looked as if he were straining against the uncomfortable tug of the bruised flesh as he gripped the reins.

Berwald appeared astonished at his determination, but quickly nodded, mounting his own horse.

"T'rn by facin' th' way ya wanna go 'r sqeezin' th' hand o' the direction 'nd move yer body with yer horse's.

He did a quick demonstration before urging the horse into a slow trot forward, heading into the thick forest before them followed shortly after by Tino.

* * *

 **So, like, I had to Google how to ride a horse... I seriously don't know how. I mean rode one once when I was like... 8? But yeah, I'm just gonna trust the internet on this one.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Peter splashed around in a small, hidden pool of water filled by an equally small waterfall. Him and Hana had been in the middle of their journey when the small dog ran, causing Peter to dart after it and stumble upon this secluded area. All around trees and vines wrapped the scene creating a barrier that cloaked it from anyone who didn't know what to look for. Peter found this to be a great area to collect water and fish, but when the small dog jumped in and began splashing around, he forgot all about his quest for food and jumped in as well.

After about an hour, she decided that she'd had her fun and jumped out so clean she could have passed for a different dog. Peter dragged himself out as well, mimicking Hana as she shook herself dry, and got dressed again.

Not quite sure what way they'd come from, Peter decided that the best choice was to climb the small sloping hill from which the waterfall fell; however, just as he was gripping one of the loose vines he heard a small yip below him. Looking down, found Hana stomping her paws at him as she stared at the cliff.

"Oh! You can't climb this can you? Well that's okay! I'll put you in my pack. How does that sound?"

The small dog stared at him then back to the hill, as if considering it, and, once again, yipped, jumping at Peter and pawing at his legs to show that she approved.

He set down his pack and readjusted things to make room, then picked her up and put her in, making sure she wasn't going to fall out, and began climbing the steep bit of earth. He had almost reached the top when he heard hooves pounding against the moist ground and the soft hum of distant voices approaching.

"How did it go for you?"

"It went well, I didn't catch as much as I'd expected to, but we have enough food back at the camp, so it doesn't really matter."

"Have you seen Ivan? He said he would come hunting as well, and I swear I heard his horse, but I didn't see him while I was hunting."

"No, I don't think I saw him either."

"Alright, well let's just head back then."

Peter pressed himself closer to the soggy earth, caking his clothes and face with the damp soil. He breathed in the dank air through shallow breaths waiting for the sound of the horses to fade. Hana peeked her head out from the pack and began growling. Peter's breath hitched, he slowly turned his head and shushed her, instructing her to remain quiet in a hushed, rapid speech. The small dog let out another short growl before ducking her head back in.

It was a little longer until he finally heard as the horses' footsteps faded into the distance, but he remained still and held his breath, making sure that not even the sound of the wind's tussling of the leaves could be heard.

Peter dragged himself up the rest of the way and was about to stand, when he saw something glimmer in the dirt. He crawled over the crunching leaves and snapping twigs to find that it was a small dagger. It had detailed engravings along its bloody and dirt-coated blade.

As he inspected the blade, he found that the blood was still a little wet. He ran his small, and relatively hands over the grooves and ridges of the knife, admiring the trinket. His father had one with a similar design; It was the one Peter had brought with him. Lost in thought, he continued to admire the dagger until he realized hooves could be heard again, accompanied by the same voices he had heard only moments ago.

"Raivis, are you sure you didn't just misplace it?"

"No, of course not! I'm sure I had it in my sheath, but it's not there so maybe it fell out."

Peter quickly stuffed the dagger deep into his pack to keep from injuring Hana, and looked around desperately for any place he could hide, but found that the nearest tree was too far.

He yanked out his bow and an arrow and aimed it in the direction of the voices.

"Well we can't look around the whole forest for it! C'mon let's just head back."

"Hold on. Just let me look a little long-" he let out a pained gasp as a searing pain shot through his side. His horse, realizing the danger, panicked and threw the young boy against the earth. He landed with a soundless scream of pain, contorting his body in agony.

Peter stood before them, new arrow loaded and pointed at the boy that lay before him who had his eyes screwed shut and was drawing ragged breaths.

He had curly blond hair and a scared, pained look in his aqua blue eyes. He appeared to be only a few years older than Peter and only a bit taller.

"W-wait! What are you doing? Who are you?" One of the other men asked as he dismounted his horse and slowly approached Peter, hands raised in front of him in a show of surrender. He had brown hair that reached his shoulders and brilliantly green eyes. He wasn't very impressive in stature or appearance, although he wasn't short or completely _unimpressive_. He appeared to be young and the stressful war had also taken its toll on his features as his tired eyes were adorned with dark, heavy bags.

"That's far enough!" Peter commanded, stopping the man in his tracks.

"I'm Peter Kirkland, heir to the Swedes," he declared. He wasn't sure how true the statement was, but he knew it'd have more of an impact than 'Peter Kirkland, runaway.'

"I-I'm Toris Laurinaitis, third prince to the Lithuanian throne. P-please put down your arrow we really d-don't mean you any harm."

"Then you're a Slavic! " Peter exclaimed, changing the direction of his arrow so that its sharp spade tip was now aimed at Toris, while securing Raivis against the earth with his foot, causing the boy to gasp in pain.

Toris looked to the man, still mounted on his horse for help, he had straight blond hair that draped lifelessly on his forehead and a very average face with blue eyes, although a darker shade than the boy Peter had pinned under his foot. He seemed just as tired than the other, although his glasses did a good job at hiding it. The man looked just as unsure of what to do as the brunette and simply stared back with a bewildered expression.

Toris was about to speak again, when they heard the distant sound of hooves approaching. The two men looked to each other in fear.

"Is that? "

"Ivan."

"Wait, but what do we do about him? We don't know what'll happen to him if Ivan learns that he's the Swedish leader's son!"

"Then we won't tell him!"

Toris rushed over to Peter, who had been too shocked by the man's carelessly bold advance to shoot, and gently grabbed his arm.

"Listen, I need you to put that away. You know that your country is at war, right?" Peter nodded slowly in confirmation. "Well then I'm sure you know that Ivan is the leader of the army your dad is fighting. He's coming this way." Peter attempted to pull away from the man's grip and climb back or even jump back down the small cliff, but was held tight by Toris. "Don't run! It'll look suspicious. When he asks, you're lost. You're not from around here. You live just south of here in Poland. You can keep your name as you don't have your father's family name, but as of now you have no affiliation to the Swedes, okay?"

Peter was about to protest, when he saw the look of fear and desperation in the other man's eyes. He decided it best to clamp his mouth shut and simply nod.

Peter heard the sound of hooves get louder and louder behind him, but not once did he look back, scared of what he might find.

Matthias had always told him that the Russian ruler was a very cruel man and that his son was even worse. He was heartless and sadistic, slaughtering and torturing. Peter didn't know which one this "Ivan" was, and he was too scared to let his curiosity win over.

He heard a horse stop directly behind him and turned slowly.

"Oh? Who's this?"

He wasn't as intimidating as Peter thought him to be. He was rather tall and sturdily built, but his face showed no sign of malicious intent, in fact, he looked rather kind with a gentle smile and a prominent nose in the center of his round face. His bright purple eyes shone as they watched him.

"T-this is Peter. He appears to be lost."

"Oh? And where are you from Peter? "

"P-poland," Peter stuttered out.

"How did you end up here then?"

" I-I was hunting with my father and I lost him. I haven't seen him in two days and I'm not too sure how to get home."

"Well then I am surprised you are alive."

"O-oh, um... I'm a good hunter. I've been hunting with him plenty of times and I've learned to survive."

"That is good to hear... Did you think little Raivis was an animal too?"

Peter stared at the man, confused, before realizing he was still standing over the boy in question.

He quickly backed away as Toris approached him and tried to help him up.

"I-I'm sorry," he looked down at the ground, fearing the consequences for hurting the boy.

"It is not your fault, Raivis should have been more careful." He turned to Raivis, sending the boy a reproachful look that caused him to squeak in surprise.

"Would you like to come with us, little one?"

"W-well I-"

" Let's go then." He urged his horse forward to proceed, but stopped when he heard Toris call out to him.

"U-um... Ivan?"

"Yes? what is it?"

"W-well, um, Raivis fell kind of hard and I'm not sure he will be able to ride his horse, especially because all the movement might make him bleed out."

The man released an exasperated sigh, jumping down from his own horse.

"I will carry him, then. Little one, do you know how to ride a horse? " He asked turning to Peter as he gathered Raivis in his arms. Peter watched as Raivis flinched when Ivan picked him up with an overwhelming amount of guilt.

"Y-yes."

"Good!" Ivan shot him a quick smile, "You may ride it, then. Toris, help him up."

Toris, who had been fretting over the other boy, rushed over to Peter and linked his hands as a makeshift step for the young boy. He turned to Ivan, who seemed to be waiting on him, and took that as his cue to get on his own horse and go.

* * *

 **HAHA! I DID IT! Did I post as much as I would have liked to? ... No. Will I post as much as I would have liked to? Probably not. BUT I UPDATED AND I'M PRETTY SURE I'LL HAVE TWO MORE CHAPTERS BEFORE THE WEEK IS OVER! I'M ALREADY WORKING ON CHAPTER 11. Oh.. but I didn't exactly proofread these too well... ANYWAY! WOO! YEAH! THANKSGIVING BREAK! THANKS FOR READING!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Once at the Slavic camp, Ivan handed off the injured Raivis to Toris, told Peter to explore the camp if he'd like, and made his way to what Peter assumed to be his own tent, leaving him alone with the three strangers once again.

Peter looked around at the overwhelmingly large camp. There were tents and bulking men scattered throughout, causing Peter to remain completely unwilling to explore.

He was used to seeing bulking soldiers around his father's camp, but that didn't mean he was any less intimidated by them, especially now, when they were enemy soldiers. He stood in place, fiddling with his tunic, unsure of what to do. He considered running away, but he had no idea where he was, not that he had any idea before, but even then he was within distance of his father's camp if he ever decided to go back. Now he was within Lithuanian territory, enemy territory.

He was lucky enough to have been discovered by such merciful, if not a little cowardly in his opinion, men, but he might not be that lucky the next time. Matthias said that the slovaks were ruthless and, while that idea hadn't held up so far, who was to say it wouldn't ever.

It was here that all of Peter's fears and nightmares began to manifest. What if his dad did come looking for him? What if he found him? He was tough, but even he wouldn't be able to take on all these soldiers, even with Matthias. He'd be killed! And Peter killed with him as his heir. Or maybe they wouldn't see him as a threat and would just enslave him, turn him into a servant who begged for scraps and was worked to near death. But what if they enslaved both of them. He couldn't stand the thought of his dad being reduced to such a state. Such a powerful and kind man broken. He had heard stories of how the Romans had dragged enemies of high positions through the streets in chains as trophies as people laughed and mocked them. Would the same be done to him? Was such a thing still practiced? It would be all his fault if it happened.

As Peter's mind explored all the negative outcomes, the blond man at Toris' side noticed his unease as he tugged at his tunic with wide glossy eyes. He pointed it out to Toris who cleared his throat in an attempt to get Peter's attention.

"You can come with us if you'd like. I need to take Raivis to the medical tent, then we can discuss your situation, and maybe we can get you back home."

Peter quickly nodded, running to Toris' side. Relief washed over him as he followed Toris and the other man as they weaved their way through tents and men to a relatively large tent in the center of the camp, where an older, busty woman ran out, tears in her eyes.

"Oh! You're back! I was so worried! What has happened to Raivis!? Come, bring him inside," she urged them forward, not even sparing Peter a glance, too concerned with the other boy.

He didn't know if he should follow, as he had been the one to cause the injuries, so he decided to wait for the other men to come out. That is, until men continued to walk by, shooting him strange looks.

To them, it had been bad enough that the young Latvian had been brought along, so none of them could understand why a boy at least four years younger appeared as well. If they were to die, the morale of the soldiers would be diminished. It was too dangerous for the boys to be there, it could even have been considered too dangerous for the women to be there. At least, that's what many of the men thought when they saw him.

Peter, however, didn't see these stares as worried but as suspicious and scampered into the tent.

Inside the tent were three futon-like beds on the ground. An extinguished candle was carelessly left near one of the makeshift beds. By the entrance stood a small table with herbs, a mortar and pestle, and bandages. Everything in the tent was mostly kept clean and tidy and the entrance was kept open to allow in fresh air.

From the inside, Peter noticed, it looked no different then the medical tent back in his father's camp.

"Hello, is there something you need?" Peter looked up to find the woman watching him, waiting for an answer, and was unaware of how to respond. 'Oh hello, yes. I was just wondering how the boy I shot and knocked off his horse is doing? ' or maybe 'All of the soldiers out there scared me because they could potentially kill me if they found out who I was, so I ran in here for cover because I'm a coward.' He was about to open his mouth to allow an impromptu lie to slip out when Toris spoke up.

"O-oh, Katyusha, this is the boy I was talking to you about. The one we found in the forest."

" Oh! This is the one, " she turned to Peter with wide eyes. "Well I should have guessed. There aren't many children in this camp. Where are you from?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a way to respond, but found that he couldn't properly formulate any words. She turned to Toris, as if to ask if there was something wrong with him, and he took it upon himself to piece together a story for the boy.

Peter watched the two, hearing bits and pieces of his faux background, before turning his attention to Raivis. He was sleeping relatively peacefully, with the occasional grimace from agitating his injury. Watching him gave Peter a sinking feeling. He knew what it was, he was guilty. He was reckless to have shot the arrow at the boy without a second thought and without any real threat and he had threatened the other two men, who were now helping him and covering for him. Worst of all he'd become a complete coward at the first sign of danger and practically hid behind the people he'd injured. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find the right time to do it or the right words to say. Maybe later when he was talking to Toris he could apologize.

Peter was startled out of his thoughts for the second time that day when his pack began to shift and snarl. He panicked for a fraction of a second, assuming an animal had gotten in, before remembering his small companion was still trapped in there and quickly put his bag down, allowing her to climb out.

Toris and the woman stopped their discussion to watch as the little dog shook itself off and began inspecting the tent, sniffing every nook and cranny.

Peter quickly ran over and scooped it up in his arms when it got too close to Raivis.

"Is that yours?" The woman asked, watching in delight as the small creature squirmed, kicked, and pushed against Peter's hold.

She stepped closer, scratching Hana below the chin. The small ball of fur forgot all about her struggle, instead pressing herself closer to the hand.

"What's his name?" The small dog pulled back at that, looking to Peter.

" _Her_ name is Hana. I found her in the forest."

""Oh that's right!" She cried, turning to Peter and examining him. "Toris, here, says you were in the forest for quite some time. Are you hurt anywhere?" She cupped his face, inspecting it thoroughly for any injury.

Peter pulled back slightly as the woman held his face.

"W-well..." He held up his burnt hand that was still wrapped in the torn cloth.

Hana took this opportunity to squirm free of the one hand left gripping her, and sat at the edge of the bed, near Raivis' feet. Peter made an attempt to order her away from him, but the small dog simply turned away and made herself comfortable.

Toris watched, with a look of both worry and mild amusement. Meanwhile, Katyusha took the bandaged hand into her own, gently and began unwrapping, humming quietly at the sight.

"Well it's not that bad, but I'm sure it's still a bit uncomfortable, right?"

Peter simply nodded, to which the woman decided was permission to treat and dress the wound. She gave him a kind smile and made her way over to the herbs on the table.

Peter watched her go, but slowly changed his attention back to the boy who lay injured next to him. His wound had been wrapped, but he still appeared to be in pain. He moved slightly in an attempt to get comfortable, his eyebrows knitting together.

He was about to move the Hana away, when the woman's voice stopped him.

"He sprained his wrist and strained his back a bit, but he's young, he'll heal quickly." Peter jumped slightly, not noticing that the scrapes of the pestle against the mortar had stopped. She smiled, petting Raivis' hair. He relaxed under her touch, eyebrows unfurrowing and a small sigh escaping his lips.

"May I see your hand?" She said turning her attention back to Peter. He held it up again as she lay one of her hands under it and began spreading on a cool, green slime. Peter recoiled a bit at the feel of it against his skin, but did his best to remain in place while she finished and rewrapped his hand.

"Well that's it for now, Toris said he wants to speak to you in private, so I'll go check up on Ivan. If you need anything come find me okay?"

Peter was about to respond, when he was interrupted by Toris.

"Don't worry Katyusha, if he needs anything I'll help him, you're busy enough." She appeared somewhat confused by his response, but from the serious look in his eyes, she decided not to ask, simply nodding as she left.

"Now, Peter, I would like you to tell me what happened."

* * *

 **So, I tried really hard for the 2 chapters, but I also left all my hw until the last minute... And my college applications too... So that didn't end well, but at least I got one chapter up! And I MIGHT have another one up by the end of the week. I'm going to TRY! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Are you humans always at war?" They had been riding from dawn until the sun had progressed to the other side of the sky and the newly developed soreness that coated his lower half was making him grow irritable. He had attempted to distract himself in a number of ways, listening to the various chirps and calls of the forest's inhabitants, taking in the change of scenery and observing the trees and vegetation, and even looking to the sky to see the clouds, although the latter resulted in his nearly falling off the large beast when it jerked rather harshly becasue of an accidental tug on the reins. What irritated him most of all, though, was that the man beside him had hardly uttered a word. The prolonged silence was wearing on Tino's sanity, to the point where he attempted to start a conversation.

"Seems l'ke 't." Was all Tino got from the man, as he continued to stare ahead, not even shifting his eyes towards him. This annoyed the young håvsra to no end. To be so rude that he wouldn't even look at him when speaking. And what was with his response? Tino tightened his grip on the reigns, wincing when a pain shot through his hand, but deciding to ignore it. It shouldn't be so hard providing a 'yes' or a 'no.' Had it been any other situation, he would have told him exactly what he thought of his reply. Of course, that was in any other situation, not when he was in the middle of the woods with a man two times his size that could possibly abandon him or kill him if he got on his bad side.

Although, he would be justified, Tino thought. He had killed many of his men and wanted to take his son, who was technically Tino's first. Even so, he didn't seem like he planned to kill him, or abandon him. Both the Swedish king and the older woman treated him very kindly, going out of their way to make him comfortable, but he couldn't understand why. A part of them told him it was a ploy to gain his trust, but another part didn't see the logic behind that. What could possibly be gained from that? He was defenseless on land, meaning he could neither provide help nor defend himself.

He decided to forget about it and shake off his paranoia, deciding to keep a conversation going instead.

"Why is that? " He cocked his head to the side, curious as to what the man had to say in their defense.

"Greed," Berwald responded.

"Oh... and you?" He was taken by surprise that the man could so casually state such a thing, no justification to their vices whatsoever, but it also made him curious as to what _his_ reasons to go to war were. He expected something maybe nobler, a heroic cause, just to make himself feel a bit better about his son's substitute parent for the past years, and even to feel better about his current situation.

"S'me reas'n."

Tino looked up, watching the man through wide eyes.

"G-greed? That's it? " Berwald let out what Tino assumed to be short laugh, sparing him a short glance.

"Ya seem s'rpris'd."

"I just... thought you'd defend yourself, or that there'd be.. a just cause? But, not all humans are greedy?" Tino shifted a bit on his horse, looking to the reins in his hands to avoid the man's intense gaze. Sure he had assumed they were at first, but now he didn't want to believe it. Greed was such a nasty thing and hearing Berwald say he'd killed people out of greed scared him.

"All w'nt somethin' 'f that's wh't ya mean, but not all hum'ns'll kill for it." Berwald watched the smaller man. He appeared uncomfortable, but he couldn't understand why. His shoulders were tense and fixated intensely on his reigns. Berwald followed his eyes, noticing his bandaged hand, and assumed it to be the cause of his sudden change in behavior. He looked to the sky, noticing that it would grow darker soon, and slowed his horse down, before pulling it to a complete stop. He jumped off and began sorting through the different materials the men had packed for the pieces of flint and iron pyrite.

Tino tore his gaze away from his hands at the realization that only one pair of hooves could be heard. Looking to his side he found that the large man was no longer there. A panicked expression came over his face as he twisted and turned attempting to locate the man, but the fear of losing his balance limited his view, and the large man was nowhere in sight.

His heart thundered against his chest and his breathing became heavier. He began to shake and was attempting to throw his leg over the edge of the horse to unmount when he felt something touch his knee. Panic sent his body jerking away, causing him to lose his balance. He fell over the edge of the horse, barely managing to grab on to its neck, and landed unceremoniously on the ground beside it.

Once he dusted himself off, he stood slowly, cautiously to catch sight of what had frightened him.

Peering over the horse he found a very confused Swede, hand suspended mid-air, shocked by the other's exaggerated reaction. His cheeks turned a vivid pink as he rapidly shifted his eyes to the ground, pursing his lips.

"I-I thought you had left me out here alone..." he trailed off refusing to tear his eyes away from the ground to see the man's expression.

Berwald hummed in understanding and took hold of the horse's reigns, guiding it back to the tree in which he had tied his own. Tino followed slowly, scolding himself for his behavior. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't regain the edge he had when in water. He was too unfamiliar with everything, too scared of everything.

"H'w's yer hand?"

"Hm?" He finally looked up to find the man watching his bandaged hand. "Oh! Um.. it's doing well, I suppose. Doesn't hurt as much, just when I clench it tightly now. Why do you ask?" He flexed his fingers, noticing that the pain had lessened considerably and looked up to find that the man was watching the motion as well, before turning his gaze to Tino.

"Ya look'd 'ncomf'rtable."

"O-oh, well that's just..." He smiled sadly at the ground, a fresh wave of homesickness coming over him. "I just feel out of place here. I understand that it is normal, as I am not of land, but it does not mean it is in any way less uncomfortable."

Berwald only nodded in understanding and the two were shrouded in an uncomfortable silence once again. The man noticed that the day was now much darker and, decided that this spot was just as good as any, went off to gather wood and stones, while Tino watched curiously. Soon a small fire glowed and was built up into a roaring flame, controlled only by the rocks set around it. Berwald backed away and took a seat on the hard ground.

"How do you do that? " Tino asked, curiosity finally winning over.

"Hm?" Berwald looked up from the flame to find Tino watching the fire thrash violently a couple of feet away.

" That light, I mean. How do you make it? I've seen it on some ships, but it's always already made. I like it. Can you teach me how to make it?" Tino crept closer, until he was kneeling right beside the man, looking up through glowing, eager eyes.

"J-ja, but ya should b' careful. 's dangerous. "

The smaller man crinkled his brow slightly. "But... isn't it just ... light? We have light and it looks like that and the men on those ships use it as light. Light is not dangerous, unless it's the sun, but even then the only danger is hurting your eyes." Tino turned to the bouncing blaze and stretched his arm out to reach for it. It wasn't alive, he knew that much, so it wasn't like it could attack him, so what was the real danger? Just as he could feel the warmth radiating off of it, his wrist was enveloped by a large hand. His attention snapped to the source and was startled to find Berwald giving him a stern look.

"It's hot."

Tino looked down at the hand that was wrapped around his wrist, but made no move to get the other man to remove it.

"How hot? "

Berwald released Tino's hand, picked up a nearby twig, and stuck it in the fire, pulling it out once it was coated in the flames. He waited a couple of seconds before blowing the small flame out and revealing the charred remains.

"Oh... " Tino pulled his hand tightly against his chest, regarding the fire with a fearful look.

"Ya still wanna learn how t' make 't?"

"N-no, I would rather not."

It quickly grew quiet between the two as Tino watched the fire in awe, while Berwald picked up a piece of wood and began carving away at it.

Tino's fascination with the flame quickly faded away and he instead look about him to find a new object of interest. He watched as small insects crept along the ground, then studied the trees' rough texture up close, running a hand down the jagged bark. Eventually,however, he grew bored of all of these things, and ran out of things to study within a safe distance of their makeshift camp.

Plopping back down on the ground, he began tapping his fingers against the ground and humming to the rhythm of an old tune. His humming grew louder and eventually turned into actual singing as the song progressed.

At his side, the rhythmic scraping of wood came to a halt, as the man tensed. His jaw and fists clenched at the sound of the håvsra's melodic voice, but the creature at his side took no notice and continued to sing. Each word that spilled from his mouth drew him back to the ship, to the haunting tune that played as men threw themselves over the edge of the ship. He could practically feel the ship being thrown around violently by the storm and hear the screams that echoed off the waves.

"St'p it."

Tino jumped slightly at the harsh tone the voice carried and quickly silenced himself. Looking up, he found the man staring intently at the ground, jaw and fists clenched.

In one swift move, the man rose to his feet and began to walk away, wood and knife lying abandoned on the ground. Tino's eyes became frantic as the man walked further into the thick brush of the forest, heart pounding in his chest as the man's silhouette began to fade. He watched him, stunned, before the reality and danger of it all hit him.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come back! Please!" Wide eyes locked onto the vanishing figure as he scrambled up and ran in the direction the man retreated into.

The Swede had heard every distant cry and plea uttered by the other, but it only served to increase his anger. He just needed to get away from him, even for a moment. To push back Peter's frightened face, his men floating dead in the water, Matthias struggling for his life, everything he had, slipping through his hands and the person that caused it.

Peter could be dead because of him, because he was selfish and cruel and all the other things he had accused humans of. These thoughts continued to tumble around in his head, amplifying his anger to the point where he was ready to turn back and do something stupid, but all thoughts of violence were washed away by the realization that everything had gone silent.

Remorse overtook the anger as he looked back to find that he'd wandered very far, the flame but a faint glow amongst the trees. He rushed back, taking long brisk steps, the crunch of the leaves and twigs echoing in the hollow night.

He was halfway back when he heard a whimper just to his left. A couple of feet away was a figure curled into itself, hiding behind a large oak. Berwald cautiously approached the figure.

"T'no?" The figure flinched, but didn't make a move to get up, but only began muttering rapidly. Berwald strained to make sense of the words, but found that he couldn't. He knelt down in front of the man, laying a hand on him, causing him to jump again.

"Are ya okay?"

"...sorry ...sorry" Berwald furrowed his brow and leaned in to the boy slightly, attempting to make out the rest of his mumblings, but was shocked by what he heard.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. " The boy continued to string out apologies, one after another. Berwald couldn't recall having heard him apologize for his actions before and was taken aback by the sudden change.

"What're ya sorry for?" No sign of Berwald's previous anger was present, instead he felt sympathy for the other. While Peter wasn't his biological son, he thought of him as such and had he had him ripped away from him, he didn't know what he'd do. Probably the same thing the small håvsra had done.

Tino finally looked up, eyes glassy and tears rolling down his pink cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Berwald. I'm sorry for what I did to your men, for what I did to you. You've taken care of Peter when I couldn't and I owe you for that and I should have been grateful, but instead I've killed your men, punched your friend and now Peter's gone," he burried his head back in his knees, overridden with guilt over his actions and fear for what the outcome might be. He felt so stupid for not having realized that he was so wrong, and even more stupid for not taking into consideration Berwald's own feelings.

"T'no? Hej, 's okay. 'S not yer fault. Ya only wanted ta get Pet'r back, 'nd Matthias des'rved it." Tino giggled lightly and physically relaxed, looking at the man before him, a small smile on his lips.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" He wiped the tears in his eyes peeking up at the man as he did.

Berwald thought to himself about what the answer might be. He knew it was partially because he understood why he reacted the way he did and because he knew he would have done the same, but even then, he knew that didn't explain leaving his men in the middle of a war.

"Not s're." He stood and helped Tino to his feet and began heading back, but was stopped by a sweet, smooth voice.

" I-I really am sorry, Berwald. About your men, and the others before that. I had no right, and yet... I took there lives as if they were responsible." His voice became thick and tears began to swell in his eyes again.

"I've taken so many lives because of a tantrum. Because I couldn't have what I wanted, I damned so many men and blamed a whole people, and it had never occurred to me how wrong that was. They had children and families too and I took them away." Tino scrubbed the tears away with his sleeve, hiccuping as he spoke.

Berwald was at a loss. He didn't know what he could do or say to make him feel any better. He could tell him that it was ok, but it wasn't. He couldn't tell him that it was okay to have killed all those men when they probably had nothing to do with Peter's disappearance, but he also knew all too well the guilt of having slain innocent men and disrupting families. It was just... war. There seemed to be no way around it.

Instead of saying anything, the Swede stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the sobbing figure, who stiffened at first. Berwald had worried that he'd done something wrong, but relaxed when Tino wrapped his arms around his torso. After a couple of seconds ticked by, Tino broke the silence.

"Berwald?" Tino's voice was muffled as he still had his head buried in the larger man's chest.

"Hm?" He looked down, but found that he had not made any move to meet his eyes.

"You can't leave me, okay?" Large, swollen, violet eyes looked up to meet his own confused ones. He understood that Tino was talking about the incident earlier, but his heart fluttered at the words nonetheless.

"J-ja. I won't leave ya."

* * *

 **I SWEAR I SPENT HOURS JUST EDITING THIS CHAPTER. Ugh, I don't even think I fixed it completely, but it's seriously been a couple of hours... I think I need a beta to help me, but I don't even know how to go about that. But anyway~ I'm sorry I should stop saying I'll have these things up by certain dates... I should also stop ignoring math hw... GETTING OFF TOPIC, not that I have much more to say, but still. I hope you guys had a great Christmas, for those who celebrate it, and have a happy new year! :D**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

So, then I'm assuming you wouldn't want to return home, correct?"

Peter nodded, looking down at his hands. For the last hour, he had recounted everything that had happened, as far as he'd remembered, that led him up to this point while the two Slavic men listened intently.

"Look, Peter, I really don't know what to tell you. If Ivan finds out ... well actually I'm not even sure what he'll do, but I know it isn't safe here. You need to go back." He lay a hand on the boys shoulder, a worried look in his eyes.

"But I _can't_ go back," Peter choked out. The very thought of returning shook him to his very core. That _thing_ had killed so many of his father's men, and yet he was willing to give him to it, as if he were some goat being sacrificed to one of their gods. What would it do to him if he did go with it? What would happen to him? And his father? Would he be able to see him again? Did he even care?

Peter shook that thought away. Of course he did! He may not have been his biological father, but he treated him as if he were his own son and protected him and always made him feel loved. Tears began to form in Peter's eyes.

He found him when everyone else left him behind and gave him a home. He risked his life to pull him out of the water, so why would he be willing to give him up? Why hadn't he just left him there?

Peter was broken away from his thoughts by Hana, who had begun lapping away at his tear-stained cheeks. He giggled at the ticklish feeling and shoved the dog away, wiping the tears with his hands. He turned his attention back to the two Slovak men who were watching him with a look of pity, they then turned to look at each other, uncertainty gleaming in their eyes. He supposed that if they wouldn't help him, he'd go to the Polaks and take refuge amongst them. Peter gathered the dog in his arms and stood.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Don't worry, Peter, we'll talk to Ivan about letting you stay, but we need you to be careful about your identity, okay?" Peter was shocked by their sudden change in decision, but nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin spreading across his face and a giddy laugh bubbling in his chest.

"Good, we'll be right back," Toris walked out, the blond man at his heels, looking back nervously at Peter, before whispering something to Toris, who waved him off.

Peter crushed the small, squirming dog against chest and danced around joyously. But a certain thought made him pause. He was suddenly struck by the realization that he was alone. Men and even some women walked around outside and the slavic boy lay sleeping just a few feet away, but he was... alone. The word repeated itself in his mind and he could only stand, remembering all he was leaving behind as remorse washed over him, making his chest feel heavy and his eyes water.

He was never going to see his father again. He was never going to see his nurse again. He'd never even see his uncle Matthias again.

He remembered the first time he'd met the man; he towered like a giant, with an arrogant grin on his face. He remembered the irritated look on his father's face at the sight of him. A small smile appeared on his face at the thought. He knew his father cared for Matthias. They had started off pretty badly at first, but his father wasn't the most social of people and the Dane's easygoing and personal behavior hadn't helped much to strengthen their relationship. Matthias, however, didn't show the slightest care in the world. He didn't back down from his father's fierce gaze, only laughing at his irritation and turning gentle eyes towards Peter himself. The boy remembered hiding behind his father, but being lured out by soft spoken words and a kind smile from the man he had grown to call his uncle.

He no longer had a home now, he didn't even have a friend now, but stood in the tent, an unconscious boy and a dog his only company. Peter wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes and attempted to recover from the overwhelmingly heavy feeling in his chest.

He began to play with Hana, trying to gain her attention, but she was too interested in continuing her exploration of the new environment to care for his antics. She wriggled away from him and bolted out of the tent, where Peter dared not follow.

He sighed and looked to his hands, then to the floor, to his clothes, and shoes, and everything, trying to find something to do. The boy had taken to playing with an insect when he heard a pained moan opposite the entrance of the tent. He started, losing his bug as it scuttled away in his moment of distraction. Looking back, Peter saw the other boy waking up and trying to get up. He crawled over to him, and pushed him back down gently.

"The woman that was here earlier said you shouldn't move much right now."

"Katyusha?" The boy asked. Peter nodded and the boy complied, laying back down and remaining still. Peter wringed his hands nervously, trying to figure out the best way to apologize to the boy.

The seconds turned to minutes that slipped by in silence, and Peter had yet to apologize, only opening and closing his mouth. The boy paid him no mind, laying with his eyes shut. His breaths didn't come out shallow, informing Peter that he was awake. Eventually, Peter grew tired of the silence and gathered up enough courage to speak.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. He winced and mentally reproached himself for his uncouth apology, but was glad that it at least grabbed the other's attention.

"What? " Raivis started at the sudden voice and opened his eyes, staring up at the other, confused.

Peter took a deep breath to compose himself and began to elaborate, this time more calmly, if not a bit solemnly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have attacked you or Toris or Eduard. You guys didn't do anything to me and are even helping me and I'm sorry. You got hurt because of me and if you'd landed wrong or on a rock or something you could have died."

"It's not your fault." Peter flinched when Raivis lay a hand on his own. "You were just scared, right? I'm sure you didn't mean it, besides, Ivan was right. I should have been a bit more careful."

Peter stared at the boy, stunned. He supposed it was in a way true, he should have been more careful, but it certainly wasn't his fault Peter attacked him. He supposed that he was in a forest relatively close to his father's camp, so taking every precaution was common sense, but Peter thought it was more true that it was his fault. He couldn't just go around shooting arrows at every noise he heard! Someone could get seriously hur- er... he shook that thought from his head. But it made sense that the others thought it was safe. It was safe only minutes ago, why wouldn't it be safe when they returned? Peter furrowed his brows. Why had they returned? He knows it wasn't because of him...

Peter's face lit up with the sudden realization as he crawled to his pack, left at the far corner of the tent. He rustled through it, tossing out things in order to aid his search. With an excited "aha!" he dropped the pack, quickly replaced all his belongings messily and scampered back to the boy that had been watching the whole thing curiously.

He presented the decorated blade to the boy, an accomplished smile on his lips as the other took it and examined it in disbelief.

"Where did you find this?" Peter beamed at the boy.

"Where you left it, of course!" A smile spread across Raivis' lips and he let out a joyous laugh.

"Thank you. Really, you don't know what this means to me." Raivis held the blade in his hands, admiring the patterns and carvings as if he'd never seen them before. A light could be seen in his eyes as he traced the sharp edge of the blade down to the golden hilt. Peter watched him, surprised at how happy he'd become from such a small, dirty object.

"D-does this mean we can be friends?" Peter's smile faltered as he became nervous, heart pounding against his chest erratically. Just because he'd forgiven him didn't necessarily mean the other liked him, it just meant he hadn't blamed him, or stopped blaming him, for what had happened earlier. He was worried that he hadn't. He really hoped to become friends with the Slovak boy. If he was going to start anew somewhere else, best to make it feel like home and find people to trust and care for to forget the rest.

"Of cou-" Raivis stopped mid word, staring wide eyed at the entrance if the tent. The smile had completely fallen off his face, eyes wide and fearful.

"Hello, Raivis, good to see you awake." Peter turned to find Ivan at the entrance, Toris and Eduard standing behind him squeamishly.

"H-hello, sir. I'm very sorry for what happened today, I didn't mean to cause you any trouble." He attempted to sit up, wincing and the pain that tore through his back. Peter quickly flattened the boy. Ivan watched with a carefree smile.

"Don't be foolish, you need to heal, rest for now." Raivis squirmed at the attention the man gave him, the gentle smile on his lips turning irritated for a split second before it returned and he turned to Peter. "Now, little one, Toris tells me you'd like to stay?" Raivis looked to the boy, horror clear in his expression, but Peter wasn't looking at him, his attention was focused on the man before him.

"Yes, if it wouldn't be a bother. I don't want to return to the man who would willingly abandon me." Toris shot him a worried look from behind the large man, but Peter simply brushed it off. It wasn't as if he were lying. The stories matched up his real dad was planning to throw him into the ocean to fend for himself and the one of his story had left him in the woods. Ivan raised a brow, but simply gave a small nod.

"I understand, you may stay in Raivis' tent for the time being. You don't mind do you, Raivis?" All eyes returned to the injured boy, who only nodded in confirmation, lips sealed shut.

"Good! Now, it's getting late, Toris show Peter to his tent, I would like to stay and check up on Raivis." The boy shot a look of horror to Toris and Eduard, who only mirrored his expression.

"W-well, Kat- your sister has already looked him over and treated him. She said he should rest for now, but should start moving to keep the muscles from weakening in a couple of days. R-really, Ivan, I think we should listen to her instruction. " Eduard spoke up this time, taking a hesitant step forward, arm held out as if attempting to reach out to the man, but hesitating to touch him.

"Nonsense, Raivis is young, he will heal quicker." As if attempting to prove his point, he went to move the boy into a a sitting position, but was stopped when he felt something latch onto his back.

"R-really sir, Katyusha considered that too! She said he would heal sooner, but a couple of hours is not enough time!" Ivan eyed the boy curiously. Peter hesitated under his scrutinizing gaze, but kept his eyes locked onto Ivan's. The Slovak leader was the first to break the intense encounter.

"I am surprised that the child of a peasant would be so daring against a person of noble blood, but I have met a Polak and I expected his people would act as impertinently as him." He turned away from Raivis and headed out. "I suppose we will just wait and see how quickly little Raivis heals." All four of the inhabitants of the tent let out a sigh of relief as Ivan exited the tent.

"T-thank you so much." Peter looked back to Raivis, whose eyes were welling up with tears. The boy looked exceedingly relieved and grateful. He was about to respond when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Peter turned to find Toris smiling down at him.

"That was very kind and brave of you. I am grateful as well, Raivis is like a brother to me."

"Y-yes, it was very kind of you to intervene, b-but Toris... I think he could very well be on Ivan's bad side now. This could, or rather will, make things exceedingly more difficult for him," Eduard watched the boy anxiously. He was just a child and it frightened the man to think what Ivan could make him go through. The man was overall calm, if not slightly creepy, but appeared to have no sense of what was okay and what wasn't. He looked to Raivis, an example of Ivan's inability to understand his own cruelty. Ivan held no contempt for the boy and yet, even after seeing that he was clearly in pain, attempted to pull him to his feet! He was simply worried that Peter would suffer the same, if not a worse fate. His eyes met Toris'. The man clearly understood his worry, but he appeared determined.

"Then we'll have to help him. Come, Peter. I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. Raivis, I'll be here first thing in the morning to check on your injuries." With that, Toris left the tent. Peter followed closely behind, sparing a small smile and a wave for Raivis before running behind the other man.

A thick silence spread through the tent, as Raivis and Eduard remained. The two were far too immersed in their own thoughts to begin conversing straight away.

Raivis was the first to speak up and break Eduard out of his own worries.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" The fear was evident in his tone, but Eduard didn't say a word, he simply let out a tired sigh and left the tent.

* * *

 **Finally! I've had this mostly written for almost a whole month, but didn't have the time to finish or even upload it. Also~ I might be reintroducing Lukas, Emil, and Matthias in a few chapters and I'm, like, SUPER EXCITED cuz I already have those chapters written :D. Anyway~ I'm sorry for the REALLY long wait and I know I'm a day late, but HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! Oh! Wait! Quick sidenote:**

 **Polak means person of polish nationality**

 **Polack is an ethnic slur against a person of Polish descent and while there is a difference in spelling there kinda isn't a difference in pronunciation so I don't recommend using this word!**


	14. Chapter 14

Tino awoke to two unexpected things. The first was that the hulking Swede had gently thrown an arm over Tino's smaller frame at some point in the night. He was startled at first, but remembering their encounter the day prior, he found that he felt rather comfortable and safe in the man's arms. He watched him for a moment, entranced by how chest rose and fell with each shallow breath and how his harsh facial features softened as he slept. His usually wrinkled brow and his firmly set jaw had relaxed. At their close proximity, Tino even noticed that the other had traces of stubble. He held perfectly still, not wanting to wake the man, lest he return to his terrifying demeanor.

Tino's second unexpected surprise occurred a few minutes after when he actually attempted to move, realizing that the longer he remained where he was, the further his son would be. He made an effort to sit up despite the weight on his torso, only to have an intense sore pain shoot through his body up from his thighs and backside.

He let out a pained groan that startled the man awake. Immediately, the young havsrå was pinned to the ground, dagger at his neck. The powerful Swede looked down at him with an intense glare that quickly dissipated into remorse when he came to his senses and witnessed his small companion looking shocked beneath him.

Berwald quickly pulled away, but the other remained frozen. He opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say. It was Berwald who spoke first.

"'M sorry. Didn't mean ta hurt ya or even scare ya. Just... 'n war... gotta be ready fer an'thin' at 'nytime..." His voice quieted as his sentence progressed, not knowing how to explain the brutality and underhandedness of war to the creature without exposing the truly barbaric nature of humans. The two had, for the most part, finally worked out their differences and he had already managed to scare Tino away, once again. He peeked back at the man, only to find that he was sitting up and staring thoughtfully at the ground.

"It... must be hard... to live like that." The Swede grunted in affirmation. He pulled himself to his feet and stretched, then went to the satchel strapped to his horse and pulled out two loaves of bread. He passed one to the smaller of the two and took a seat on the ground beside him as Tino inspected the loaf before he began nibbling at the ends. Berwald stared down at his share and heaved an annoyed sigh.

"'nly got 'nough food t' be out here a few m're days." Tino lowered his morsel and shot his head up to look at Berwald through wide, fearful eyes. The man had turned away to avoid his gaze and was watching a leaf twitch as a small breeze blew.

"A few more days? No, that's not possible. What if we don't find him by then? It is only our second day!" Tino grabbed his arm in an attempt to turn his eyes back to himself.

" 'nly packed 'nough fer a f'w days-"

"Then we can hunt! Surely you hunt on land! And we're so close to the ocean! I can bring back food as well. Berwald, please, we need to find him." The man in question let out another sigh, still refusing to look at the teary eyed man in an attempt to preserve his decision.

"'s not just th't. Need ta g't back ta Matthias. C'n't leave 'im 'lone. 's not fair ta 'im."

"Do you even want to go back?! You don't like living in such a manner, you just said so! We can't stop looking! Not until we find him! He's our child, Berwald!"

The larger man stood, eyes locked just a few feet away from him. He was no longer listening to the other. An small dark patch on the ground had the Swede's full attention now. The ground had clearly been disturbed, as the area was not level to the ground around it and the ground around it was more exposed than its neighboring ground.

"Berwald?"

Slowly, step by step he approached the uneven mound of foliage. He heard some rustling behind him as he cleared the top layer to reveal the remains of a campfire.

"Someone else was here?" Berwald hummed, letting the thought sink in. Had they simply been riding through, they would have missed its presence.

"Could. .. could it have been Peter?"

" M'ybe. No reas'n fer it ta h've been one o' my men or a villag'r... too dangerous fer them ta come so close ta w'r camp..."

"Then that would mean he is not too far off? We could find him if we keep moving!" Tino turned and headed back towards the horses. He stuffed his remaining piece of food in his mouth and wriggle his way onto his own. As quickly as he could mount himself, he urged the animal forward on a rapid gallop, through the trees, and without any real thought as to where he was going.

"T'no! Wait-" Berwald quickly followed suit, jumping onto his own horse in quick pursuit.

It wasn't certain Peter had left behind the fire, it wasn't even certain that he had gone in the direction Tino had taken off. What was certain was that there was an enemy camp nearby and that they could decide to attack his men at any given second. Two reasons he desperately needed to stop Tino and get back to Matthias as soon as possible.

That creature simply made everything so difficult. It had near no understanding of human affairs, yet ran around eager to find trouble.

Like a child, Berwald thought. He could hear two sets of hooves knocking against the ground as he caught sight of Tino's fragile frame atop the ivory colored horse. Just a bit closer and he could call out to the man, too far to waste any effort in an attempt to be heard over his ragged breaths and the pounding of the horse's gallop. It wasn't until they approached a small clearing that Berwald got close enough to be heard by the man.

Tino didn't have a clue as to wear he was going, but he knew that Peter was there. He could hear it, however faintly; a kind of call that lured him in, the way the ocean did. It became stronger and stronger until it was the only thing he heard, until-

Berwald called out to the man again, but, once again, didn't get a reaction. Feeling the panic rising, he brought the two horses as close as he could, leaned over, wrapped an arm around his slender frame, and hoisted him onto his own horse as he pulled it to a stop.

Tino gave a terrified scream as he was pulled backwards off his horse. He shut his eyes, awaiting a harsh impact, but instead feeling an arm at either side. He looked up to find Berwald glaring straight ahead and followed his gaze to see his own horse continue running for a short distance before slowing down and turning with a shake of it's head.

Berwald jumped off, causing Tino to momentarily lose his support and nearly topple off the horse. He composed himself, bringing his body close to the horse's own until he had a steady grip, and watched as Berwald dragged the other beast back.

The man wore an unpleasant glower aimed straight at him that became more fearful the closer he got to him. Tino's blood ran cold and his heart began to pound rapidly against his chest. A part of him wanted to beg for forgiveness, while another part would rather take whatever punishment he was dealt than to damage his pride.

Berwald yanked the smaller blond off the horse by his collar and stood him up as he crumpled to the floor. He kept a tight grip on him, bringing them so close their noses almost touched.

"Wh'n ah give ya orders, follow 'em. Ah told ya to wait b'cause you were headin' inta enemy territory. Ya could've gotten yerself killed."

There was a fierceness in the man's voice that made Tino tremble, but it was the look in his eyes that truly scared him. It wasn't anger or hatred, it was an intense worry, something akin to fear. It caused his insides to churn and his chest to feel heavy. He opened his mouth in an attempt to strangle out an apology, but couldn't find his voice.

It didn't matter, however, as Berwald's anger quickly dissipated at the sight of Tino's wide eyes and gaping. He released him and brought himself level to the other's eyes, resting a hand on either side of his face, and continued to speak, much more softly this time.

"Ya tol' me not ta leave ya, now I'm askin' ya not ta leave me. I'd be scared if ya left mah side, too."

Tino slowly nodded, although he couldn't understand the large man's request. He seemed to know his way around, knew more about this world, and knew how to defend himself. Surely he was beyond being scared. If anything, he was the one to be feared.

The two remained frozen that way for a while before the horse's huff startled them back to their current situation.

Berwald stood to his full height again, without another word, and began guiding the horses back to the safety and cover of the trees. Tino processed the other man's words shortly before running to his side, wincing at the soreness that burned with his exertion.

"May we walk? I don't think I could stand travelling on this creature any further today." Something that resembled a small smile spread on Berwald's lips as he nodded.

They had only just begun to walk when a faint thumping against the earth could be heard. Tino turned to Berwald with a questioning look. The man had clearly heard as well as he had focused his attention in the direction from which it came.

"Berwald what is tha-"

"Keep quiet. C'mon." Berwald rested a hand on the small of his back and began guiding him to the thick cover of the vegetation where the two crouched. The

They stood as Berwald watched, although Tino did not understand what he watched for. If it was truly as dangerous as Berwald had made it seem, dangerous enough to make him visibly fearful, he wondered why they did not simply leave. He turned to Berwald to ask, but his attention was quickly drawn by a foreign voice in the distance.

"Such a shame the little one did not want to come. I certainly would have wanted to see him hunt, with how he left Raivis." A large figure led the procession of two men riding on horses. He, however, stood out, sitting atop a much paler horse, and being much paler himself in both dress and physical attributes. The horses carried them along at a sluggish pace, but the men did not seem to feel the need to urge them on. Tino noticed that they were dressed much like the Swede beside him, as if of importance. He guessed that Berwald noticed as well, judging from the way he tensed and his brow wrinkled. He leaned in further, straining to overhear their conversation.

"H-he must be feeling incredibly guilty. You s-shouldn't have brought it up to him, I-ivan." A brunette man responded. His voice held near no authority and he was rather plain when compared to the other. The light in his eyes had been extinguished and his posture let on that he was tired, but of what, Tino did not know. Beside him was a blonde, continuously fidgeted and whose movements were very cautious. He hadn't said a word, but it was clear that he wanted to. Every few seconds he would exchange a glance with the brunette, but he never dared to look the leader of their trio in the eyes.

"Why not? He should be proud. Starting so young, I am sure he will someday become a great enough he will learn to accept that people need to die for others to succeed," he stated with a tone that projected certainty. The two exchanged another glance, before the brunette spoke again, this time much more agitated.

"Peter does not have to live like this, Ivan! Once we return home, we can find him a good family! He does not need to live a life of war; he is just a child and does not deserve these hardships." The leading horse stopped, the wind stopped, everything around him appeared to come to a pause for Tino at the mention of that name. A strong feeling of intense joy rivaled by an intense fear overcame him. He didn't know when his body began moving out of their hiding place, but he knew when it stopped.

A protective arm, the same one that he woke up to and that pulled him of the horse encircled his waist again and held him back. There was a stern look in the man's eyes. A warning. Tino grudgingly nodded and remained still, turning his attention back to the three men. In the minute he looked away, the man had turned his horse around and approached the other two. A determined look overcame the brunette, even as he clenched the reins of his horse in his hand, and even as the man beside him quaked.

"What better family than mine? All his needs will be cared for, he will have everything he could want, and he will be able to take the throne if he pleases. The only price is that he would have to pay is war." The pale man's voice had dropped, but held it's cheerful tone. A sound that caused a shiver to run up Tino's spine. If his son was in the hands of that man, then he would rather get himself killed trying than to allow him to remain with him a second longer.

"W-wait, but- why would you be willing to take that boy in, and even to trust him so much? I- I d-don't mean to go against y-your wishes, it just seems strange to me tha-"

"Something is moving there." All three men directed their attention to the white forms, whose light color sharply contrasted the earthy colors of the forest.

In fact, one of the horses had grown impatient and had begun stomping at the ground and shaking its head. It was a small movement, but, unfortunately, it had devastating consequences. An arrow plunged through the clearing and straight at the creatures broad neck. The other squirmed out of Berwald's tight grip and lifted itself onto it's hind legs, giving a terrified cry. Try as he did, he couldn't placate the animal, as it tried to break free to escape the same fate as its companion, who had been struck in the torso.

Tino watched in fear as Berwald fought to decide on how to act next, while horses rapidly approached. In the end, the man made up his mind. He released the squirming creature, grabbed Tino's hand, and ran blindly into the forest. Their oanting breaths seemed to echo, and the roof of leaves darkened the day as they dodged trees, not once releasing each other. Tino glanced back to find a small white speck too close to the ground. He turned back, tears welling in his eyes at the innocent creatures avoidable demise.

* * *

It was a long while before the two men stopped running. Both were hunched over in an attempt to regain their breath. They had run until they were sure they weren't followed, then ran until they were too far to be easily discovered if the man were to search the perimeter. Tino looked to Berwald with uncertainty.

"What do we do now?"

Their food was gone, their horses were gone, everything they had brought along to help them get along was either with the horses, or the abandoned camp that was completely lost to them in their unfamiliar surroundings, even the ocean couldn't be heard. Worst of all, they had learned where Peter most likely was.

"We go b'ck." Berwald looked around, attempting to determine which way he should head, testing the wind and the forest that surrounded them for native plants.

Tino was horrified by his response and latched onto his arm to pull him back.

"We can't do that! We know where Peter is! We can go back and-"

" 'nd get 'im killed. If they f'nd out he's my son- He's b'tter off l'ft fer now. Wh'n the time c'mes, we'll get 'im, but fer now, we'd only m'ke things worse."

"So we are inclined to wait?! Until when?! Until you win the war? And what then if you do not?"

" 'van takes 'im in 'nd he lives as a Slav'c."


	15. Chapter 15

While all those events came to pass, Lukas was rapidly regaining his strength and more than eager to join his cousin on land.

In the depths of the vast ocean the two brothers were in the middle of an argument.

"Lukas, you have not fully healed yet, it would not be wise to put a strain on yourself with such a long journey and expose yourself to the dangers of man." Lukas ignored his brother's pleas for him to stay. Tino had been alone on land far too long for him to possibly be safe and he needed to be there with him.

"If you truly wish for me to stay you should address me as 'brother'. I think it would help your argument." He continued making his way towards land calmly, not even noticing that his brother had momentarily stopped.

Emil made a quick recovery from his brother's calm, if not slightly mocking, suggestion. He quickly caught up with him and began to try to coerce him to stay once again.

"Please take this seriously Lukas! You could be hurt. I know near nothing of land, and I don't think those men will take to kindly to what you have done to them." But none of his words could do much to discourage Lukas as he continued to move forward.

"If this makes you worried then you can stay."

"What I want is for you to stay! At least one more day, to heal. You'll need your strength!" Lukas continued to swim on, without any sign of hesitation, his brother followed, attempting to stop him the entire way.

* * *

Matthias and his trusted advisors spoke in hushed tones over the sudden change in circumstance. The four men sat in his large tent at the center of the camp. Although it was midday, candles were used to provide light, the entrance to the tent was kept shut.

Matthias had summoned the men upon Berwald' s departure and hoped that they could help him maintain peace without the Swede; however, things had not been going smoothly since Berwald had left. The man had been gone all of three days, yet the men had not yet created a solution to the impending conflict that was soon to rise if the Swede remained away any longer. Currently, the three men were each coming up with different answers as Matthias sat, arms crossed and staring intently at the ground as he gnawed away at the inside of his cheek.

"But do we even have to tell them?" One of the younger, more physically able men asked the other two.

"That is true. How many of his men even know he has gone?" A middle aged man with a significantly long beard responded, entertaining the idea of keeping the Swedes in the dark. An older man stood from his seat and threw his hands up in frustration, apparently shocked at the idiotic proposal uttered from the other two's mouths.

" Are you fools? I am almost certain word has spread and the King's denying it will push them further from trusting him."

"Well if it's already known, then we have lost their adherence! Which of the Swedes would willingly follow the king?" The youngest and most impatient was beginning to grow frustrated and had long since began pacing.

"It's not a matter of if they _want_ to, but that they _have_ to. Simply remind them of what is at stake!"

The men continued to argue back and forth on methods in which they could deal with the change of circumstance, but could never agree on a solution. Matthias, having grown tired of the discussion, stepped out, deciding that they could come up with a solution on their own.

The bright sun momentarily blinded him as his eyes adjusted to the new light. He turned on his heel and decided to walk around and intermingle with the men when he heard a clipped shout coming from their makeshift port.

His eyes darted around for any signs of life that could possible provide him with backup, but discarded the idea when another shout was heard.

Matthias bolted in the direction of the ships, dagger at hand. His mind raced at the possibilities, but one consumed him with a bone chilling fear. That the Slavics had invaded.

His pounding steps came to a halt. A figure lay bobbing a couple of feet away from the shore and another was motionless, faced down, just far enough on shore that the waves only washed over his body instead of dragging him completely away.

Matthias rushed to the man's side, placing his dagger back in it's sheath, and turned him over. He searched for a pulse, sighing in relief when he found one. Standing, he scouted the camp for any sign of life, friendly or otherwise, but found none. Even so, he pulled out a blade and held it tightly in his hand as he grabbed the man's arm and threw it over his shoulder. The man slumped under the weight, but began making his way towards the camp nonetheless; however, before he even made it a few steps away his feet were kicked out from under him, causing him to crash harshly against the ground.

He was quick to roll over, but not quick enough to get up before a cold blade was pressed against his neck and cold indigo eyes met his own wide ones.

"Where is my cousin?" The dagger was pressed harder against Matthias' skin.

"And here I thought ya'd come back to apologize," he gave him a cocky grin as he squirmed under the other's surprisingly strong grip. The Dane's eyes shifted to the figure that stood a couple of feet further, watching them, but not making a move to step forward and help.

Shifting his attention back, Matthias kneed the other in the stomach, stealing back his weapon, and flipping their positions. It was then that he noticed the light bruises and healing cuts that littered the other's, otherwise pale, body. The creature winced as Matthias pressed his knee against his chest, but maintained his cold expression.

"I have nothing to apologize for" he grunted, struggling to breathe with the weight of the Dane on his chest.

Matthias brought a fist crashing against the other's jaw, drawing a startled whimper from the figure behind them. Lukas aimed a warning look behind the man perched above him, then turned back to Matthias with an almost mocking glint in his eyes. A small streak of blood trickled from his neck, caused by the sudden move of his head when the hit had been dealt.

"Nothin' ta apologize for? Ya humiliated me, killed my men, and made Peter run away." He pressed the dagger closer, a look of fury and something else overcame his features, drawing Lukas's attention as he attempted to decipher the powerful emotion that hid behind the other, more obvious one.

"You humiliated yourself, and as for your men it was you who could not protect them. Maybe the same for the boy, hm?" Matthias took a fistful of the Lukas's hair and went to strike him again, but paused. A look of sorrow and remorse tainted his face before a look of disgusted rage consumed it. He lifted himself off the man and took a couple of steps back. Lukas coughed, breathing in air heavily now that his lungs were not being crushed against the larger man's weight. He watched him cautiously, thinking that he would retreat, but jumped to his feet when he saw him bolt towards the water, or rather, the frozen boy a couple of feet from the water.

He raced after him, but stopped a couple of feet away, as the Dane pressed the dagger to his brother's neck. Lukas raised his hands in a sign of surrender but Matthias paid it no mind, pressing the dagger against his brother's pale skin. Emil gasped, whimpered, and squirmed. His eyes watered as he looked to his brother for help.

"And if I kill him? Would it be yer fault for not being able ta protect 'im?" His voice rose in volume until it was an angry, frightful roar. Lukas' previous stoic expression melted into a look of utter terror as he saw his brother's life in the hands of an angry, irrational man.

"P-please do not harm him, he has nothing to do with this."

The two held each other's gaze, surrounded in silence only occasionally disrupted by Emil's silent whimpers. Only when the sound of men approaching was heard did Matthias avert his eyes. Two of his advisers, three of his own soldiers, and an unknown man approached the scene, evidently shocked. Once they were but a few feet away Matthias threw the younger håvsra to the ground, followed by the blade that lodged itself into the sand only a few inches from his face.

Lukas scurried to his brother's side, checking for injuries. As he cradled his brother's face in his hands he was pulled up by a vice grip on his upper arm and dragged away. He squirmed and attempted to look behind him, catching only a small glimpse of his brother getting the same treatment. He was pulled along roughly and nearly stumbled several times, but the men paid no mind as they dragged him and his brother around like a pair of rag dolls. About five feet from him, Matthias spoke to the remaining two men in hushed voices.

"What is it?" Matthias' sharp tone caused the others to recoil slightly, but the younger quickly recovered, clearing his throat.

"The young prince of Poland has come."

"His father said we were free ta pass through here, and I ain't movin' my men." The older of the two waved him off.

"No, no. Like Hel would they want us gone, we're the only thing keeping the Slovaks from invading, that's why they're here." He motioned towards the boy beside them.

"... What d'ya mean?" Matthias eyed him wearily.

" M-my King is willing to provide men and horses." The boy cowered at the sudden attention given to him.

"What does he want? I'm damn sure they don't just want us as a buffer, what're they askin' for?"

"I don't know, the haughty Polak said he wouldn't discuss it with anyone but you or Berwald, and seeing as it's only you..." Matthias let out an exasperated sigh. He was sick of all the responsibility that was thrust onto him and all the obstacles that reared their ugly heads while Berwald was gone.

"Alright, I'll take care of it." He turned back to the two brothers, completely looking them over as he directed his attention to the three men that escorted them.

"I want ya ta tie them up in the center of the camp and keep'em from utterin' a single syllable, sew there mouths shut if ya have ta, but keep'em alive."


	16. Chapter 16

"We _won't_ give you all that land," Matthias ran his hands over his face, attempting to wipe away his exasperation. The blond man before him had been repeatedly, stubbornly, asking for one thing since Matthias entered the tent.

"What? Why not? " He repeated the same question he'd asked countless time, each time completely bewildered as to why his offer kept getting refused.

" I told ya, that's too much land."

" And i'm telling _you_ that you can just, like, get more." Matthias stared, surprised by the man's stubborn stupidity.

"No, we can't 'just, like, get more.' It would mean dragging on the war, or even another war." Matthias stood from his seat, slamming his hands on the table. The man before him, other than looking slightly annoyed, was unfazed by the Dane's ferocity.

"You're gonna, like, have to fight longer anyway, the Slavics have more than enough men to waste." He leaned forward in his seat, whispering, as if he had some great secret to tell. "You, though ... I heard you guys, like, lost a bunch of men. So while you think you can negotiate your way, I know you need my men and supplies. Just, like, give in Matthias, this war will end badly unless you use my help." Matthias glared down at the table between the two, gnawing on his lip.

The man had a point. He had seen, firsthand, the vastness of the Slavic's armies. Compared to them, his and Berwald's men were a pathetic lot. Even if Matthias considered his men much more adept, a few thousand men couldn't stand against a monstrous army on skill alone.

"Will the men be comin' ta this camp?"

" Yep."

"Do you have any form of military skill or experience?"

"Lots." The blond man smiled up at him cheekily, knowing full well that things would go the way he wanted. Matthias gave a tired sigh, keeping his eyes focused on the weather torn table, before meeting the man's exuberant stare.

" Looks like we have an alliance, then, Dane." Feliks stood, smiling brightly and holding out his hand.

"Aye." Matthias took his hand and gave it a firm shake before turning away and leaving to check up on the other thorn at his side.

* * *

In the center of the camp, tied to posts low on the ground and gagged, were the two brothers, and around them a crowd had gathered. Some men looked to them confused and curious while others looked on with an intense hatred. He was sure that if he hadn't asked the two men to keep them alive, they'd be long dead.

Each brother held an intense look in their eyes. One a bubbling, boiling, seething rage and hatred, and the other held a heart shattering look of pure, concentrated fear. The men surrounding them looked both pleased and angered by the expressions each held, fueling their harassments to the point where one threw a stone, striking the older of the two across the face. The men stationed to protect them looked the other way as other's followed suit and began a barrage of stones and all sorts of objects lying around them aimed at the two helpless creatures.

Matthias' decreasing patience and annoyance flared as he witnessed this and he quickly stepped in front of the two, taking the brunt of few rocks, twigs, and sand that wasn't held back in time.

"The Hel d'ya think yer doin'!?" he roared. The men held their silence at his sudden appearance, even the Swedes. Several of the veteran Swedes, while they disliked the man, had to respect him as an able leader and a fierce warrior, so the Dane was surprised when a man he had fought with and commanded for the duration of the war spoke against him.

"We're givin' 'em what they des'rve."

"What cowards ya are, all o' ya! Ta attack an enemy that can't defend itself, that isn't even trying ta defend itself, is like attackin' a person who's already surrendered."

"And what of what they did ta us? " An angry voice shouted back, earning multiple murmurs of agreement.

"Yer grown men, soldiers even, if ya can't defend yerself from a couple o' fish I think yer in the wrong line o' business." Matthias let out a loud, bitter laugh that blocked out the sound indignant grunt that came from behind him. He quickly regained his serious disposition and continued his speech, a solemn look on his face. "If anythin' t'was my fault. I was the one who insisted we go through those waters, so if ya got a complaint, take it up with me, stone me if ya like, but understand this: If someone trespassed on yer territory, yer country, ya woulda attacked as well. Isn't that why yer at war now?" All opposition fell silent as the men simply stared at the man who stood in front of the two creatures who had previously tried to kill him. None could fathom the sudden change in attitude, but none could argue with his logic either. They knew they could sympathize with the creatures before them. Many quickly grew remorseful, while others were further angered by such a comparison. Nonetheless,the men dispersed, without another word and left Matthias with the two creatures and the two soldiers stationed to take charge.

He turned cold eyes towards them.

"Bring me Peter's nurse, tell her some o' Tino's relatives dropped by and Ah'm leavin' em in her care." The men turned to leave, but were stopped almost as soon as they turned.

"Wait. Give me yer tunics." The men turned to one another, then to Matthias, an amused look on their faces. Their smiles dropped as soon as their eyes landed on the man's outstretched arm.

"Yer kiddin'?" One of the men chortled, sneering at Matthias.

"I don't think I am," he pulled out a rapier and pointed it to the man's chest, stepping forward, to which the men retaliated by stepping back, arms stiff at his side. "Didn't do a good job o' protectin' 'em like I asked, so this is the very least ya could do, now do it 'fore I chop ya ta pieces." The man stepped back, but kept a straight face.

"Ya wouldn't do that." His voice quaked and this eyes darted around nervously.

"Why not? Got a whole army comin' in soon, I could afford ta lose two men." The men considered the truth behind his statement, but remembered the rumors of a Polish noble entering the camp. They swallowed harshly and stripped themselves of their upper garments, rushing away from the scene shivering. He clutched the clothes under his arms and returned his attention to the brothers. Stooping to undo the knots, he found them already undone.

"My father was a fisherman. I am very able when it comes to tying and untying knots." Was the answer Matthias got as he sent the man an incredulous stare and let the rope slip from his hands. Lukas had taken out the cloth used to gag him, and proceeded to free his brother from his restraints.

"Then why didn't ya defend yerselves?" Matthias stood and dusted himself off.

" It would have caused unnecessary problems." Lukas stepped forward and took the garments from under Matthias' arm, dressing himself, then attempting to dress his brother. The boy fidgeted and gently shoved the other away, face flushed. He attempted to mimic the way his brother had dressed himself, but wound up with an arm through the largest hole.

"Didn't seem ta think about that when ya attacked the men at the port." Lukas gave his brother a smug look, and helped him, despite his protests, as the Dane watched the two interact, an amused smile on his lips.

"They attacked us first " Lukas finally faced the man, looking him dead in the eyes without any sign of fear or hesitation.

"That was their job... What d'ya mean yer old man was a fisherman? Aren't ya... one o' those things? Saw ya in the water, ya had a tail." He gestured towards his legs, not knowing how to effectively voice his confusion.

"Peter isn't the first or only babe to be taken from his home in our kind, he just seems to be the only one with a parent who cares too much to let him live away from him. Most of our kind allow humans to raise the children that were taken, and only see them again once eighteen winters have passed."

"Was yer brother-"

"No, he was not. We have only known one another for a very short time."

"Oh" was all Matthias could say back. The harsh tone made him regret asking at all. He watched as the younger fidgeted, uneasy at the topic, and the older seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. He lightly slapped at his brother's hands as he tugged at the end of the tunic. He saw the younger shiver slightly, the setting sun stripping them of its pleasant warmth as it hid behind the sea. His heart clenched and he felt inclined to do something. He removed his own cloak and gently draped it around the quivering boy. Emil looked up, startled, but held it closer to his body. Lukas sent him a stern look then returned his gaze to the exposed figure beside him.

"Thank you. I did not expect this kind of reception. Your men's behavior prior to your appearance was, although dreadful, more orthodox. I know we have wronged you, and I know you are not too foolish to believe we have not wronged you. Even still, you have responded kindly and patiently. I would like to thank you. I would also like to apologize, but I know that will not restore your men to you, nor will it tear away the cruel words I'm sure troubled you as soon as they left my mouth from your mind. So I hope that we might perhaps be able to start anew? My name is Lukas and this is my brother Emil." He held out his hand before the Dane, who only stared at the outstretched hand. After a couple of seconds without response Lukas decided to retract his hand.

" Ya still killed plenty o' my men, almost killed me. If I'm showin' any sort o' kindness it's ta show that I'm not like you." Matthias turned away, finding the old woman approaching them. He took that as his cue to leave, but not without one last thing.

"Yer cousin was here, 'bout three days ago. Left with Berwald to find Peter."

* * *

 **I'm so sorry! It's been such a long time, and i made it even longer by going back and revising all the typos (or at least i hope all the typos) I had made because I actually write pretty late in a very half asleep state and on my phone XD. It took FOREVER, half way through I stopped and I was like "Why am I doing this, again?" and then I saw all your amazing comments and I remembered some of my favorite stories that had been abandoned and how disappointed I was and I pushed myself forward XD! Sorry, I'm incredibly unmotivated XD. I will finish this, though! I will also try and start the next chapter today! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and I hope you like it :D thanks for waiting! Oh! and happy Canada Day and Fourth of July for those of you who celebrate either holiday! (I meant to finish this on the fourth, I swear...) I really hope this is okay... it's kinda one in the morning...**


	17. Chapter 17

"These- they are women's garments, are they not?" Lukas held a dull colored long tunic before him with a raised brow. His brother stood beside him, regarding the cloth in wonder, while the nurse looked up from her chores surprised.

"Ja, they 're. Th're wasn't much yer size oth'r th'n that. Would ya like me ta adjust the tunic yer wearin', instead? It'd be a shame, yer awfully pr'tty. Too pr'tty fer men's clothin'." She finished putting together the boys' makeshift bed with a huff, then walked over to them and took the clothing from them. "Sorry ah couldn't offer ya anythin' better, T'no had Peter's room, but there ain't 'nough room for the both o' ya, and ah don't want ya too close to them other soldiers; don't think that hard headed Dane would prot'ct ya, see. Ah'll be back in the mornin' with these things adj-" Lukas stopped the woman and gently took the clothing from her arms.

"Do not worry, my brother and I will gladly wear anything you are willing to offer us without complaint. We are simply grateful for your hospitality."

"Oh, such sweet b'ys, the whole lot o' ya. Yer cous'n was just as sweet. Silly boy, that one, but awf'lly friendly." The two boys looked to each other in shock. While Emil was much too shy and uncomfortable in his new surroundings to ask for an explanation, his brother was not. Even with them, Tino was always a bit... cynical.

"Tino was... amiable? Are you certain you have the right person in mind? I do not mean to say that my cousin is by any means rude, he just has not been himself for a few years. He has been rather distant for a quite some time."

"L'ttle blond thing w'th bright purple eyes? Ain't that who ya mean? Looked an awful lot like ya, can't imagine it was anyone else. Even talked to me 'bout the two o' ya."

"I see. Well, then I am glad he didn't cause you any trouble." Lukas smiled warmly at the woman, who smiled in return and bid them a good night, before she left the two brothers alone with a single candle as their light.

"What are we to do now, Lukas? Do we wait here, with these... _men,_ until Tino returns? We are clearly not welcome here, despite the words of the Dane and the woman. You have not fully healed, and you're life is in danger while you are expo-" Emil looked up to Lukas with fear and panic painted clearly on his face. He had taken hold of his brother's arm, and was holding on as if afraid that the man before him would disappear if he released him.

"And what do you expect us to do, brother? I will not run back to the ocean with my tail between my legs and leave Tino here, simply because a few _men_ threw stones at me. I endured violence and fear from men for eighteen years, a few more days won't make me fall apart, I assure you. If you do not think yourself adept to endure such treatment, I suggest you return home. I do not wish to see you living in fear or getting hurt." Lukas pulled himself away and headed towards their bed that mainly composed of a pile of hay covered by a large cloth and several pelts. Emil was not making any noise behind him, leading Lukas to believe that he had left. It would have been for the better, but he had to admit he was relieved when he heard him speak again.

"Tino is my cousin as well; I will not abandon him, nor will I abandon you. We will endure this together, do not treat me like a child. My concern was only for you. Please be safe. I know you are hard headed and strong willed, but do not test your limits." A look of brave determination took over Emil's features as he spoke, yet he continued to tremble lightly.

Lukas smiled reassuringly at his brother and placed a hand on his head. "It is getting late. Let us sleep, we do have a long day ahead of us."

* * *

Lukas leaned forward to examine his brother's face. His breathing was shallow and his face had softened. It was nice seeing him so at ease, but also an opportune moment for Lukas to go out and visit the world he had left behind seven years ago.

He pushed the blankets off and wrapped them tightly against his brother, slipped on the pair of shoes he had been given, and shoved through the heavy flaps of the tent with a final look at his brother, who was still sleeping soundly.

The night air, while chilly, felt wonderful against his skin. His senses came to life at the foreign, yet familiar smells. The trees, dirt, ocean, burning wood, among others, came together in a refreshing sent that made him tear up a bit. It had been such a long time since he had left. He never found out what happened to his adoptive parents after his departure; never cared to. They had by no means been cruel, in fact, all his negative experiences were due to wary villagers and their children, who feared him and wanted him gone. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel a sort of hatred for them, not only for having him live like that, but for taking him away from his family. Emil was already eleven by the time he returned. His, or rather, _their_ mother had just died and he had been living with Tino, whose son had just been brought into the world. He was so happy, so careful, so attentive. It was in a brief moment of distraction that Peter seemed to vanish into thin air.

Lukas had been wandering around the camp as he thought, running his hands along the tents, the trees, and scooping up some dirt he shifted from hand to hand until he reached the dock. There, he sat at the very edge, legs dangling just above the water as he continued to shift the dirt around in his hands. After a few minutes, a creak of the wood alerted him to another person's presence.

"It's a beautiful night, Dane" he didn't look up, but simply dropped the dirt into the ocean and dusted his off his hands and looked to the water that reflected the sky. The moon was half full, but provided enough light to be able to see his surroundings. The wood began to creak louder and more closely as the man approached him.

"Aye, it is. What're ya doin' out here at this time o' night, beast?" Lukas smiled at that and looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I was deliberating as to what the best method of sinking your ships would be." Matthias tensed and Lukas let out a soft chuckle.

"It was a joke, Dane. I mean you no harm. I simply wanted to come out and become reacquainted with the land without worrying my brother. Why are you out here? You wouldn't happen to be following me, would you?" Matthias scoffed and went to sit beside the man, although he kept a distance of about a foot between them.

"Yer the least o' my problems. Got a whole damn army comin' in, can hardly keep my men and Berwald's from fighting, got left to manage all o' it in the middle o' a war, 'cause Berwald wanted to play nice with yer pretty little cousin. Nah, I just needed some fresh air when I saw ya. It's nicer ta be out at night when everyone's asleep. No one ta bother ya, you could just sit and think." Lukas looked over to see that the man beside him looked absolutely exhausted. He was slouching and he looked... defeated.

"You're so young, it must be rather difficult to hold your position. Such a shame to see your life wasting away like this."

"Hey, my life ain't wastin' away, and anyway, it's none o' yer business. You almost killed me, so don't go talkin' 'bout what a shame it is to be wastin' my life 'way." Lukas let out a hearty laugh to which the Dane appeared to almost pout at.

"As you said, Dane m kind and I are the least of your worries, if not for all the other problems you have, then because of all the other creatures that inhabit these parts."

"What're ya gettin' at?"

"Simply making conversation. The Slavic rusalki is a greater danger than I'll ever be. They used to be kind, nurturing, would liven the land, I don't know how it happened, but soon they were feared. They would lure men to the water with their voice and appearance, only to drown them. There was no purpose behind it, it is just something they do, whether you are the person that damned them to such a fate or not. They can take form of what you find the most attractive, too. I would be wary of anyone with red hair around these parts, if I were you."

"Tryin' to say all o' yer kind are scum that drown men? 'Cause that's all I'm getting from ya."

"Don't be stupid, Dane. Like I said, I'm simply making conversation. Besides, we're not all bad. It's not even in my kind's nature to drown men, that was just because of a grudge..." Lukas watched as small waves would trample over each other to reach the shores. A part of him yearned to jump in, or even to just dip his feet. He could almost feel the cool water envelop his body. He remembered how scared he was when on a day like any other he jumped in, only to find that a searing pain tore through him. He remembered the fear that consumed him as he was pulled deeper in and the fear of drowning blinding him from the burning sensation as his legs were drawn together, as if tied, and became inseparable. After it was said and done, he realized he could breathe again, he could see, he could even swim more swiftly. So he swam. Without a direction in his mind, but one in his heart that compelled him to continue onward, until he saw two others. They were stunning, and he found himself unable to move as they approached him. The younger of the two moved cautiously, while the older rushed over to him and embraced him, before motioning the younger forward and explaining to him that his brother had returned.

"If you had seen Tino before Peter was taken, you would understand. I had hardly known him a year, but I had loved him the moment I met him. He was lively, caring, helpful, kind, and had the most beautiful voice. _He_ was beautiful... I can still remember that scream. It was awful, haunting, and yet, it had a sort of tragic beauty to it, even then. It darkened the ocean and skies, there were storms and powerful, angry waves. I was horrified at the power he had, I had been human, after all. I tried to calm him, but he was hysterical, and then my brother was the same. He looked so scared, so alone, and I couldn't help but hate the humans, too. I think I would have killed my human parents then and there if I had the chance..." Lukas shivered, but Matthias could tell it wasn't from the cold.

"Ya let yerself get dragged down-" he finally commented after a long silence. Matthias had been silently watching him for every small movement. At first it was cautiously, worried as to the danger he could be in, but soon he found himself simply watching out of interest. Every movement he made was graceful, every expression, lovely, yet without much meaning to them.

"I wasn'-"

"Yer still bein' dragged down. Yer eyes, they're always so far, as if yer thinkin 'bout somethin' distant. Even then, I remember thinkin' ya had a strange look." They both knew what Matthias was talking about. It was the only time the two had stared intently enough at each other to notice anything. As Lukas sang, and as Matthias leaned closer, they had noted more than a few things about one another.

Lukas had noted the man's strong facial features, not as rugged as the other men's, yet not as clean cut as an aristocrat. It was that that had led him to believe he was of noble blood.

Matthias, in turn, had noted the soft features of the havsrå. His pink lips that moved in a hypnotizing manner as he sang, his slim, delicate hand that had small callouses, that he hadn't been keen on questioning at the moment, and most of all the dull indigo eyes, void of any emotion. Now that he saw him, he couldn't help but want to bring an expression to those eyes. He _had_ been human, were his eyes so dull then?

"Why the sudden concern, Dane? Was I not a beast only moments ago? What has changed to make you grow concerned about whether I get dragged down or not? It is my own business." Lukas returned his gaze with anger coating his own. There was a small spark in those eyes now. It made Matthias grin down at the man victoriously, something he did not like a all, if the snarl was anything to go by. It looked like their roles had been flipped.

"Ya were human once, ya can be human again. I'll make ya human again." Matthias told himself that that was the only reason he was deciding to invest so much on the other. If he was once human, then he wasn't like the others. He wasn't a complete monster, just someone that got swept away by them.

"I am not human, you have caused far too many losses to those close to me for me to simply want to live amongst you again or even pretend to be one of you again. If I showed you any kindness it was out of respect and the need to maintain peace while here to achieve my goal. When Tino returns with Peter we will _all_ be leaving." The man stood and stormed off the dock as Matthias watched with a cocky smile on his face.

"Have a good night, _Lukas."_

* * *

 **What's this :0? I updated in less than a month? It's a miracle! I was just minding my own business, unable to sleep again when BAM! I started thinking up this chapter and typed it right away on my phone, before I got too lazy XD. I decided to write on this POV for the next three, maybe two chapters out of all three :D! So the next two or three chapters are just gonna be following this trio. I feel like I had something important to add, but I can't remember what, so I'm not gonna try and figure out what it is because my mom is looking over my shoulder trying to figure out what I've been typing so long about XD. I think I'd just about die if she knew I was writing a story about gay countries I'm obsessed with in a universe where I have made the three prettiest ones mermaids XD. Oh! I'll add a brief explanation of the Slavic Rusalki.**

 **Rusalki: At first a rusalka was connected with fertility and would revive and nurture the plants during the spring, but later, they were seen as evil and unclean spirits of women who drowned or were drowned. It was often red-haired women were suspected of having been bewitched or who lived such a life, and they did often have red hair. The rusalka would be allowed to die only if her death was avenged, if not, she lived on with the sole purpose of luring, seducing, and then drowning young men. In order to achieve this, she would lure him into the water where he would become too entangled with her red hair to reach the surface, and her body would become too slippery to hold on to. In some accounts, they are believed to be able to change their appearance to mimic what the male they were seducing found most attractive, but there was little need, as they were already incredibly beautiful, causing them to be both feared and respected.**

 **Anyway :D! Thanks so much for reading and stuff :D!**


	18. Chapter 18

**It is an absolute miracle that these chapters are still in my document manager. Is anyone still here XD?**

Recap because I've been gone way too long: Lukas and Emil showed up, are tied up and then attacked, while defenseless. That pisses Matthias off and he threatens to kill whoever hurts them, using his new alliance with Feliks and reinforcements as a justification for cutting out anyone who decides to hurt them anyway. After that they are given clothes, a place to sleep, but Lukas decides to reacquaint himself with the land. He sits at the dock where he is later joined by Matthias and tells him what happened to Tino, and reveals that he had grown up raised by humans and how he had become who he was then. Matthias then swears to help him become more "human" again. And... yeah... i think that's it XD?

* * *

Lukas was up the next day by the time Peter's nurse came in. She held in her arms more clothes; however, these were actually tunics, and rather high quality judging from the colors and embroidery, as well as the fabric. The pile of clothes was almost too high for her to see over as she came tottering in. Another servant with a platter of food came trailing in after her, obviously uncomfortable.

There was no doubt in his mind that stories of what he and his family had done had spread through the camp, through the soldiers, and to the servants, they had probably been exaggerated to the point of no return, seeing as the young boy regarded him with a look of mixed disgust, horror, and anger. The small amount of sun that leaked through the the tent as he entered revealed that it was rather early in the morning, too early for this, he sighed. He would ignore it for now.

"What is this?" He questioned, standing from where he had seated himself beside his sleeping brother. He hurried to the woman's side and took the clothing from her arms as it began to sway and set it beside Emil. The young boy scurried back, but Lukas paid him no mind, only rolling his eyes.

"I asked you not to trouble yourself over our clothing, you really did not have to go out of your way to-"

"Ah didn't. M'tthias sent 'em over. Also told me ta look ov'r yer wounds. Didja talk ta him at all? W's real strange. Sh'ved a wardrobe fit for a king inta m' arms, all fer ya and yer br'ther. Dunno where he even dug it up from." She was at a loss as to the Dane's sudden change in attitude. He didn't take too kindly to Tino and, from what she saw, he wasn't happy with Emil or Lukas, either. Any hopes for an answer were washed away, however, when she noticed that Lukas appeared equally confused, if not a bit angry.

Before he could speak, however, the young boy threw the food on the ground, shifting the attention to him.

"My king would never help a beast like ya! Ya've bewitched him! It's as the other men have said... Leave him alone, I know it's o' no interest ta a _thing_ like ya, but this war means a lot to our people! Our king is a hero, we can't win without 'im, and we've already given so much for this war, lives, family, land, wealth, we've even partnered with the Swedes! If ya raise a hand against 'im, even for so much as a caress, we will kill ya." The boy stood strong, a mixture of fear and anger still in his eyes. He was stiff, arms pulled against his sides, fists clenched, shoulders raised slightly.

He was just a boy, and yet he seemed to have prepared himself to face what he thought would be death. The nurse was about to step forward to reproach the boy, when Lukas held out an arm to stop her and proceeded forward himself. The Danish boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And if I raise a hand against you?" He had kneeled in front of the boy, who had his eyes clenched shut. He pulled back slightly, but ultimately held his ground.

"Do what ya want ta me, beast, but let my king alone." The boy pried one eye open a bit to watch as Lukas raised his hand. He gasped as warm skin made contact with his cheek, and a thumb began to rub away something wet that he hadn't noticed had run down his eyes. The thumb continued to rub at his cheek, long after the tear was wiped away. A comforting gesture, he thought with a start.

He opened both eyes to find Lukas smiling softly at him, kneeled just in front of him, lowering himself to his status. The boy took hold of Lukas's hands in his two small ones to stop the movement.

"What are ya-"

"You're much too young to be surrendering your life, much too young to have seen and known all you have..." A distant look overcame Lukas's features, before he turned to the boy with bright eyes. "I never knew my brother when he was as young as you. You seem much like a younger brother to me. Would you like to be?"

The boy blushed and looked away with a pout, still holding Lukas's hands. "I'm nothin' like ya."

He meant no offense this time. It wasn't because he thought Lukas a beast, but because of the elegance with which he spoke and moved.

Lukas gave a small chuckle and placed a hand on the boy's head, moving to the side. "Neither is he. The sound of you coming in would have been enough to wake me, and yet, even your angry outburst hasn't even caused him to stir." The boy watched the sleeping figure, before he turned to the man in front of him.

The boy's cheeks flushed and he quickly released Lukas's hands. He scrambled to pick up the tray and the ruined food. Once he had gathered all that he could, he gave a brief, flustered look to Lukas, before scurrying out mumbling that he'd go bring more food.

The nurse turned to him in wonder. "Yer good with kids. Threatened ta t'n tha' boy's hide all th' time, couldn' even get 'im ta finish a single chore. Ya didn' ev'n tell 'im to do nothin' and he's gone 'n' done it."

Lukas hummed, acknowledging her comment. "I'd always wanted a younger brother. My human parents couldn't bring a child to term, so it was impossible, and all the children in the village thought I was odd, so I was never able to develop a close relationship with them. It was nice- to have someone look up to me like that... Emil is as stubborn as a mule, and hardly even acknowledges that we're related..."

They both turned to the figure sleeping soundly. His back was to them and the furs used to keep him warm were resting over him completely, with the exception of his head, leaving the silver head of hair in plain sight.

"Ah can come back lat'r if ya wan'." The boy stirred, but showed no signs of waking up anytime soon.

"Don't worry yourself with us, I'm sure you have many other things to do. I will help Emil dress, as for my wounds, they have mostly healed, thank you." The woman hesitantly nodded and excused herself, casting a final questioning look to Lukas, who simply smiled and waved her off.

Once the woman had left, Lukas allowed himself to look as troubled as he was.

He didn't know what the Dane was playing at, but he didn't want _his_ help or charity or whatever he thought he was doing. Lukas glanced to the clothes again. There were far too many garments there, more than he and Emil could wear in a week. He was conflicted as to what to do. A part of him was too stubborn to even want to acknowledge the clothes that lay before him, but the rational side of him knew he couldn't wear the same clothes forever.

In the end, he plucked out the two most modest articles, a tunic and a pair of trousers of a dull blue and brown tone respectively, and dressed himself just as his brother stirred awake. His hair was disheveled, and his dress rumpled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes with a small pout. He looked around for a moment, attempting to make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings, before realizing where he was and quickly looking to his side for his brother.

Lukas could see a bit of panic rise as all that was there was clothing. The boy whipped his head around to the light chuckle just behind him.

"Sleep well, brother?" Emil calmed, slumping his shoulders, and scoffed, cheeks flushed as he pushed the covers off himself and stood on shaky legs, refusing to meet Lukas's smirking face. "There is a new set of clothes for you. Stand, I'll help you into it."

"I believe I can dress myself now, thank you." Much to Lukas's disappointment, he was able to put on his clothing properly by using Lukas as a guide. By the time he had finished, someone had entered the small, dimly lit tent again.

"The clothes fit. Good. Had ta send some men ta a nearby village ta get it for ya. Think I liked the dress better, though... " Matthias trailed off, looking Lukas up and down, without sparing a glance to the confused boy beside him. When their gaze finally met again, Lukas stared back with an extremely irritated expression. He had begun to open his mouth to reproach the Dane, when someone shoved past him, and into the tent.

"Outta the way!" Matthias stumbled and was pushed to the side as a young boy, no older than 10 scurried up to Lukas with a basket of food, not even bothering to see who he had nearly knocked over.

"I-I didn't know w-what you liked so I brought everything! There's fruits and cheeses and meats and bread and sweetmeats." He nodded to each of the items as he listed them off, then looked up with a small smile.

"Looks like ya brought in the whole kitchen, runt." The boy turned to see who had addressed him, only to find Matthias watching him a little warily, before shifting his attention to Lukas as if to ask 'Did you tell him to bring all this?' Lukas simply popped a piece of bread in his mouth and looked away.

"O-oh, um, I'm sorry, my king. I just, didn't know what he wanted, and he is a guest after all, so I-"

"I's fine. You're excused," He said, and nodded towards the open tent flap. The boy hesitated, looking between Lukas and Matthias as he slowly inched towards the exit. It was obvious he didn't want to go, even to Lukas.

"Actually, Dane, I rather like his company, I think he should stay, and if all you had to say was how much lovelier I looked in a dress, then there is no reason for _you_ to be here."

"You look lovely in anything, brother," the boy said in awe, causing Matthias and Emil to recoil. Lukas gave him a warm smile and called him over.

The boy happily sat beside him, blushing whenever Lukas's attention shifted to him to offer him food from the basket. Matthias scoffed and shook his head, storming out of the tent.

Lukas listened as the boy excitedly told him of all his adventures and dreams. He wanted to learn how to fight, he had said. It was the greatest honor for a Viking to fight, and even greater to die fighting because it meant what you weren't willing to give up, and you would be rewarded handsomely in the afterlife. The Valkyries, known for their beauty, probably not as beautiful as his new big brother, he added, would guide him into the great halls of Valhalla where heroes went.

Lukas smiled the whole while, even if he thought his dreams a little barbaric, there was so much pure joy and vigor that he couldn't help but encourage him. Seeing him like that made him wonder what Emil would have been like when he was younger, he turned to the boy, to find him picking at a piece of bread, although he didn't appear to have eaten any of it. He plucked an apple from the basket and handed it to his brother.

"Eat, it's sweet." Emil took it hesitantly and took a small bite. "There is nothing wrong with the food, brother. It may taste different, but it will do you no harm."

"You're right," the young boy cut in. "He _is_ nothing like you. I like you more." He harrumphed, upset that the other had effortlessly stolen the attention away from him.

Emil appeared shocked at the other's boldness, then looked to Lukas for an explanation. "What does he mean, Lukas? What have you told him?"

"He said I was like a little brother to him, like you, even though you are nothing like him and nothing like a little brother, anyway." The small Danish child turned to Lukas. "I have to go now, big brother, this place can't run without me!" he said proudly. He stood and gave Lukas a peck on the cheek as he ran out of the tent to cause mischief elsewhere.

Lukas continued to eat, unfazed by what had happened, only pausing to offer Emil some berries.

Emil, on the other hand, looked bothered by what the boy had said, and made it clear to his brother. "It... is not true is it? What the human child said? That you don't think me to be your brother."

Lukas looked to him briefly. "Of course not, you are my little brother, no matter how long we've known each other."

"I do not like that child."

"I think he's rather nice to have around."

After they had finished some of the contents of the basket, Lukas decided he wanted to go outside, much to Emil's discomfort. The boy followed him, however, if only to not be left alone in unfamiliar territory.

Lukas rather liked the way Emil hung around closely, even if he did know it was out of fear. The men sent them disgusted looks, and some even paused whatever they were doing to stop and stare. It made him rather uncomfortable, almost as if he was trapped, but he didn't back down.

Actually, when it looked like one of the men was going to approach them, Lukas stepped forward to meet him. He wasn't tied now, and the man had no idea as to what he was capable of and quickly stepped back, unable to call his bluff.

In fact, Lukas did know how to fight relatively well. He had a lean to athletic build, and knew his way around a sword, but fighting unarmed against an opponent of that size would have gotten him killed very quickly. He could have used the small amount of magic he knew to use, but he doubted an opponent like this would be patient, and his kind didn't possess enough magic to do any serious damage, not like the British merrow. No, his powers lay in the water, and he didn't think he could relocate the man that easily.

He turned to see his brother had probably gone over the same thought process in his head, as he let out a small sigh in relief. He was about to scold Lukas for his behavior, but stopped as he heard the sound of heavy footfalls crushing twigs to his side. Lukas groaned as he saw who was approaching.

"Oy! Lukas! Didn' expect ya ta ever step outta yer tent. Ya shoulda told me, woulda known ta keep an eye on ya. Lotta the soldiers here still don' like ya too much. Ya should be careful until I could find ya a proper guard. Can't imagine I'd find anyone here willin to protect ya, though." He looked around, noticing all the hostile glares aimed at himself and the two brothers, but didn't seem bothered by it; Instead, he waved back with a mischievous grin.

"G'mornin' fellas! Ya ready for war?" Some scoffed, some shook their heads at his stupidity, but most returned to whatever they had been doing.

"Most of 'em don't like me, either. Can't be helped! Ya want a tour o' the place?"

Lukas thought it over. He didn't think there would be much need for him to know where and what everything was, but he also knew there was nothing else for him and his brother to do without a proper escort, and Emil had relaxed a bit at the Dane's presence.

"I suppose it would do no harm," he said with a defeated sigh, looking at his nails, nonchalant. Matthias grinned widely, and began walking, instructing them to follow with a wave of his hand. He began pointing out identical tents, naming some the medical tent, some the kitchen and food storage, and some the armory. He didn't pay him much mind, although Emil did listen curiously.

Lukas's attention was more focused on the men who glared at him and his brother and drew their weapons closer, and the women who scurried away in fear.

Just what had they been rumored to have done? He didn't have to wonder long, as two short, stubby arms wrapped around his torso, causing him to stumble a bit.

"Big brother, it ain't true, right? Someone as nice as ya couldn't've split a man open and eaten 'is heart? The men are sayin' ya did, but yer not like tha'." Lukas was horrified at the thought and he heard Emil step back in repulsion as well.

"Last I heard, ya'd torn men ta shreds between the three o' ya. Now they've got ya eaten 'em," Matthias said, clearly amused.

"And you have done nothing to stop such awful rumors?!" Emil turned to him, clearly upset.

Matthias shrugged. "It's keepin' the men away, ain't it?"

The way Matthias figured, it was the fear that they could do something horrible to them that kept the men away. If they knew that they had only drowned men, and had no actual powers outside of the water, they'd be dead in a matter of seconds. "If I had more men, I'd'a started sendin' 'em ta yer tent, then told 'em to scram ta keep rumors up."

Matthias laughed at his own joke, while Emil looked disturbed, and Lukas pensive. As stupid as he was, he did have the point. The rumors were what kept him from getting him killed in the morning, or over the course of the night.

"Alright," Lukas finally stated, drawing the attention of the three present, "then I will take this as my first sacrifice," he stated calmly, carrying the giggling boy away. The boy jumped down from his arms and dragged Lukas through the camp, laughing most of the way.

"I do not like that boy," Emil stated plainly, turning his nose up.

"Yeah, don't appreciate 'im much either," the two stood staring in the direction that the boy had taken Lukas, a little bitter.

"C'mon, I'm not leavin' ya here alone." Matthias had begun walking away, but stopped when he noticed that Emil didn't follow.

Emil opened and closed his mouth, unaware of what to say. He blushed slightly, and turned away from the man's kindness. "I was under the impression that you disliked me."

Matthias let out a hardy laugh at that. "No reason ta leave ya out here for my men ta tear ya apart. Besides, you ain't that bad. C'mon, I'll show ya some more stuff."

* * *

 **It's been so long, I need to reread my own fic, I even added a small overview XD. I'm so sorry. I have the next 1 and a half chapters written but I forgot where I was going with this XD. Tino and Berwald are coming back in two chapters, though. Feliks is in the next chapter (?) aaaand thats as far as I've gotten.** **Also I'm not naming the kid. Anyway,have I ever told you guys how much I appreciated you XD? Because I do~**


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